I haven't quite figured out what to do with this here weblog, now that I spend way more time interacting with Red than I used to (having been limited by his littlitude to gazing upon him and blogging about it like the proud papa I am).
So I've decided just to write about various other things I'm thinking about, readership be damned. That's not to say I won't wax interminably about Red -- I am a dad, after all. I just won't limit myself so much.
That said, allow me to wax somewhat terminably about Red.
He turned two the other day. This was obviously kind of a big thing around chez zygote, although I've been saying he's "2 in November"for about six months when asked his age. "Twenty months" just sounds weird, like saying it's 4:47 when you could just say "quarter 'til".
Anyway, a big thing because he's figured out what a birthday means: presents. He was a little confused (though obviously delighted) by the first couple of presents, but then all of a sudden the lightbulb went off. Red's eyes drew slowly upward to the magnificent pile of colored paper on top of the tv cabinet and a vigorous pointing ensued.
It's all downhill for us from here, I'm afraid. And to think Christmas is just around the corner.