Ho Hum, Another Beautiful Day

To prepare my brave child for the sure-to-be presence of the Jabberwocky, who would certainly be in 3D in the new Alice in Wonderland movie, we went to the library last weekend and asked for kids versions of the story and whatever movies they might have, since we don't have the Disney version. Have I ever gotten on my soap box about that damn Disney Vault before? Stupid vault. Capitalism at it's finest.

Anyway, after he got a good glimpse at the Jabberwocky on film, he decided he didn't want any part of the dude in 3D. This was disappointing, to say the least, since he's been pleading to see the movie for the past two months. Apparently, the forty billion times I've read him the real Lewis Carroll poem didn't quite get the message across. Maybe it was the mome raths outgrabe that were confusing to him. This left us with a clear schedule for the afternoon, which we'd intended to spend in line with the other folks, glasses in hand. Damn. Really wanted to see that.

What to do? What to do? Well, guess we'll go for a hike in the gorgeous California weather.

There's not much cuter than a total boy romping through the poppies shrieking "poppies! poppies! sleeep! sleeeeeeep!" like the wicked witch of the west.

Oh wait, maybe there is: a total boy daintily smelling flowers and then declaring, "this is where the fairies live!"

He stops being cute when you realize that you haven't seen his water bottle in thirty minutes and you have to backtrack.

He tends to quickly make up for his annoying habits (like losing his water bottle) by doing things like insisting on us both wearing our hoods so we can both be "bad guys" and immediately begin fighting one another while we walk.

Or, he stops at the signs and points at a picture of the beach and says, "we don't get to go here today because I was a poor listener this morning," and then makes a little pouty face. Yeah, way to pull at the heartstrings, buddy.

In case you were wondering, Dave, of Alvin and the Chipmunks fame, lives in an abandoned missile storage bunker at White Point nature preserve. See, Collin is showing you.

Bryon, this picture is for you. Why? Because I noticed as I uploaded all these shots (all 142 of them that you took), that you took no less than 28 pictures of my ass. Why? Um, there are probably a few reasons. It could be that you think my butt is particularly appealing. It could be that you hope that I put a picture of my own butt on this little site here as revenge for something I did to you the other day, perhaps relating to your behind. The silly thing is, that would be nonsense. It's my blog, right? Well, ain't I sweet to you. Here everyone, here's my butt. Even.

And, here is, what according to Collin, we bought the china cabinet for. He's convinced that the only reason we need it is that we need a place to store and display the Tinkerbell he painted. Don't adjust your monitors. She does, indeed, look like she's on a bad acid trip. Oh, and she was also one of the most expensive things in the paint-your-own pottery place to paint. Nothing like offering your kid a robot, a dragon, a car, whatever, and having him insist on the $30 Tinkerbell.