If only the Phillies would of had Simeon on the team . . .

To Bed

Lately I have been taking a few trains to bed with me every night. I pile them under my chest for a sweet night of dreaming.

Tonight I surprised mom when I gathered the handle (that comes off) from our broom, a sock, the diaper rash cream, an "S" from my puzzle, and my drink up.

And I sleep well.

Sweet dreams.

Mother

Over generalization is here.
I choose not to say "Mum," Mother," or "Mommy."

This week I called all the ladies on the back of the Cheerios box "mommy" and so my mother, Abigail Bowne, remains nameless.

She says it's developmental and soon I will distinguish her, in name, from all other women.

I know who she is.
Why the heck doesn't she read this blog?

You know your mother is 8 months pregnant when. . .

You know your mother is 8 months pregnant when she literally gets wedged in between the closet door and the hallway wall from miscalculating her belly size.

You know your mother is 8 months pregnant when she takes vitamins, tums, tylenol, and sleeping pills every night.

You know your mother is 8 months pregnant when she starts to chase you around the house in a mild walk instead of the usual flailing run and whooping voice.

You know your mother is 8 months pregnant when she starts to show you weird online videos of babies, in hopes that it will prepare you to meet your sibling.

You know your mother is 8 months pregnant when her stomach is large enough and firm enough to use as a stepping stool when she's sitting down.

You know your mother is 8 months pregnant when she brushes her teeth while you're in the tub and proceeds to go to sleep immediately after she puts you to bed.

Three cheers for toddlers with 8-month-pregnant mothers and a special shout out to the dads out there wading through the hormones of an 8-month-pregnant wife.

The video that will close the debate: "Are the 1980s alive and well?"

In our box at church this past week was an advertisement for a concert for teenagers. I took a browse. Dad took a browse. Then Mom decided to check out a certain band on the internet she had not heard of before called "Family Force 5."

You Tube introduced us to this video below and, although I cannot remember the 80s (birth-related, not drug-related), we have agreed as a family that certainly the 80s are back. Perhaps even better than ever.

Sit back. Relax. And enjoy the very weird show. (The video is longer than our usual ones so it may take a moment to show up below on your computer screen).
We give you: Family Force 5 "Dance or Die" (You just gotta give it a chance at least until they start dancing!)

My Morning Workout

Dancing Qu-... King.

More from Pennsylvania

Here are a few more pictures for you. As far as updates go, here are some random facts for you: Mom seems to have swallowed a basketball.
She feels like she is in a blender at work (spinning so fast).
Work had a surprise baby shower for her (complete with cheesecake!) and even though I think it's disgusting to have flying infants, she seems to of thought it was a nice time.
Dad is working hard at school work with several large assignments due early next week.
We all haven't picked a name for the new Bowne yet .
Mom is too tired to let me stay on the computer (it's in their room) so I'm signing off.
Peace-

Purple Vienna Kohlrabi

Goodnight for a few days

I'm off adventuring. See you all next week!

Massachusetts Ear and Eye

Today I went to this rather massive structure.
Apparently people from all over the world come to this building for care.

My parents said it was for "tests."
The audiologists tried to get me to play "games."
I know their tricks.
I know the schemes.
When I am Pres, I will re-define the health-care system in relation to toddlers.

Turns out I can hear well. Good news.
I put up a fight (the electronic bunny was frightening) so I have to go back in January so they can finish the tests. Basically, I don't talk much because I am saving my voice for the campaign speeches.

I also passed the "Handsomest Toddler in New England" test.
Mom says that even handsome people need to communicate.


I will think about it.


p.s. My brother seems to be getting larger. Mom said this week that she can't ride on my plastic riding truck anymore for fear of breaking it. I'm a bit overwhelmed at the changes this little man will cause to my family. First the truck. What next?

BUB-oles

My new favorite word and object of affection: BUB-oles (a.k.a. bubbles).

Say Cheese

This one isn't in focus but dad requested it be blogged as I am "smiling" for the camera.
Happy October 1st everybody. Winter is settling in up here and we are getting out the winter clothes this week.

Asher, you're likely still at the beach.

Rubber Ducky

A 4:30am wake-up call will do that to you

Up until my genius parents solved this problem two weeks ago, I was getting up at 4:30am regularly. So yes, the clock says 8:00 and that's the a.m. baby.

Dad took a shower only to find me passed out on the couch at the ripe hour of 8am.

May your sleep be sleep and may you sleep past 4:30am. And, perhaps if you do get up at 4:30am, may you also get to pass out on a couch by 8am. And, (the final blog blessing of today), may you get to eat pancakes as good as the ones my dad makes. I recommend barbecue sauce or ranch dressing as a topping. No joke.

Greeking It

Mom and I took a stroll to a Greek festival.