Year One: Day Seventy Seven
Jessica and I have a new favorite game. It involves placing Emerson in adult-like positions and then naming them. This is funny for two reasons: He can only maintain the pose for 3 milliseconds before falling over into our hands and HE’S NOT AN ACTUAL ADULT.
The one above is Emerson Perched On A Barstool Confidently Asking A Coed If She’d Like To See What He’s Working With Downstairs*
*the answer looks and smells like poo.
Sorry, son. Daddy worked on a ton of stuff today and is just now getting around to recording his memory of you.
Your pops needs to learn better time management skills or you’re gonna be a latchkey kid.
I love you. Going to bed now. See you when you wake me up in 1 hour and 32 minutes.
Year One: Day Seventy Five
We have officially introduced Emerson to technology. Either we’re creating the next Steve Jobs or he’s gonna end up in jail for slapping a baby in the face in response to its coos and giggles.
Special appearance by Brees “WHERE IS THAT SOUND COMING FROM I’VE ALREADY LOST THE ATTENTION WAR TO ONE BABY NOW THERE ARE MULTIPLE NEWBORNS IN THE HOUSE?!?” Herter
Every single living thing in this house is napping. Complete silence.
I am reading a book.
A boy needs a father to show him how to be in the world. He needs to be given swagger, taught how to read a map so that he can recognize the roads that lead to life and the paths that lead to death, how to know what love requires, and where to find steel in the heart when life makes demands on us that are greater than we think we can endure.”
― Ian Morgan Cron, Jesus, My Father, the CIA, and Me: A Memoir…of Sorts
Year One: Day Seventy One
Normally I try to stay current on this blog by only posting things that happened the day of the entry. However, I’m including a photo we took yesterday because I’d already posted by the time this went down and double because I plan on coming back to this when Emerson is older.
Son, you don’t need to apologize for all the nights you kept mommy and daddy awake with your inconsolable screaming and crazy bad gas issues.
Don’t worry: WE GOT OURS.