Life in the fast lane

Ever wish your hot dog could walk and talk? Now here's your chance to make dreams come true...introducing Happy Hot Dog Man! Definitely doesn't bode well for any future "don't play with your food" warnings. I'm thinking about having a BBQ just so I can bust these suckers out and start a real food fight.

This morning we enjoyed a scream-a-thon courtesy of Mr. Monk and his infinite lung capacity. Jury's still out on why, but the little guy straight up yelled for a good two hours when he first woke up. After going through our usual checklist--hungry? poopy? fevery? tiredy?--I finally figured he just needed to express himself. Loudly. Perhaps he's actually getting some teeth after all? They have to come some time, right? I imagine the gummy smiles aren't so cute past age 10 or so. This morning, while nursing, he chomped down on one of my special straws. I shrieked in pain and watched the babe's face crumble in horror. He immediately burst into tears--what? why? I thought I was the one hurt. The biting, combined with the tantrums, combined with the fact that he needs teeth to chew makes me think that one is coming soon. Or, more likely, five at once.

My husband is watching "Revenge of the Nerds" and laughing so hard he's practically snorting. Clearly I didn't marry an Alpha Beta.

Yesterday we took advantage of the heat to visit the one truly air conditioned place in San Francisco, the beach. The babe? His cuteness did enjoy. So much that he fell asleep.