Kid Pics

Yesterday, Buck posted some adorable pictures of his youngest son climbing on stuff and fiddling with switches and levers (of a sort). They reminded me so much of these pictures I had of Cody driving the kitchen sink that I just had to dig them out and post them.


Then he discovered the inner workings of the garbage disposal, and I had to intervene:

Fortunately, this was right before we moved in and neither the water nor electricity had been turned on.

These last few days, Cody's been trying real hard to convince me that he's got a mustache. I don't quite see it yet, but offer the following proof that he is indeed a man:

September 1995. One month shy of two years old, and he's already got the remote figured out.

Finally, another picture of my nephew Paul, taken when he was a week old.

On to weirder things...Last night I had the strangest dream. It was very long, and had a few blurry bits in it as dreams are wont to do. I dreamed that I was in a huge medical complex. I mean it was enormous. There was an inpatient hospital, outpatient care, private practice offices, and even it's own pharmacy all in one huge building. I had gone into see my doctor, and as the dream opened, our appointment was just ending, and we were standing in the corridor talking.

"Try that prescription," he told me, "and if that doesn't work, come back and we'll try something else." About that time, a rather extremely large woman entered the hall and started to hit on my doctor. As in, flirt with him, not pound on him. She inserted herself firmly between the doctor and me, began chatting him up, and at the same time sort of draped herself over my shoulder as if trying to push me down and out of the picture. I finally got tired of her leaning against me, and pushed her off. She then began to raise a ruckus about how I'd assaulted her and she was going to file charges against me, sue me, etc, etc. I think she was just trying to impress the good doctor.

I just rolled my eyes at her and walked down to the pharmacy window to pick up my prescription. The pharmacist had seen the whole thing and wanted to know what had happened back there. I told him, explaining that I hadn't assaulted her. She was draped over me and I just wanted to get her off my back--literally.

After picking up my prescription, I wandered over to the patient lounge area, which was next to the pharmacy. I walked in and the TV was turned on. The show Deal or No Deal was playing, only some of the models on the show were bare breasted--and no, it wasn't Howie. I was shocked. "They can't be doing that on network television! They will get in big trouble with the FCC!" You know how sometimes in dreams you just know stuff without having to have it explained? Well, I just knew that they were trying to see how much they could get away with.

My friend John, who in real life is a pastor, in this dream was a doctor in this hospital. I went to his office and told him what had happened. "They can't be doing that, can they?"

"Naw," he replied. "They can't be doing that." So saying, he stormed out of his office determined to find out what was going on, and to file a complaint with the FCC, muttering all the while about how low this country's morals have become if they will show this kind of garbage when our children can see it.

As I was wandering back toward the lounge, I just happened to glance into an operating room in which they were preparing a baby airplane for surgery. Yes, you heard right. A baby airplane. An infant 747. Another of those "in a dream you just know" moments, I somehow knew that the baby airplane was scheduled to have one of its wings removed on orders of its father. The father feared that when the baby grew to be a teenage airplane, it might try to fly away from its poverty stricken, Spanish speaking, Communist controlled country (we don't know any that fit that description, do we?), and seek a new life in America. So he'd ordered that one of the baby's wings be removed so that it would be unable to fly.

As soon as I saw this, I charged into the operating room and snatched up the baby airplane. There was no way I was going to let them maim and permanently cripple this darling little infant because of its father's paranoia. The doctors tried to make me give him back so they could amputate his wing. It was his father's orders, after all, but I wouldn't let him go. The doctor called security to tell them to send someone to arrest me, and I ran over close to the phone and began yelling at the security guard to call child protective services. All the commotion frightened the little baby airplane, and I began trying to soothe it. It was at this point that I woke up.

I really do need to see about getting my prescription changed...

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