Daddy got served his party release papers last night and went to see POLVO at the Bowery with his wilding friends. Epic performance, capped the greatest week of my life (a close second being the week I got tossed from Key Club and worked the Jaycee Spook Trail with the bum urine and Yeti wig).
I rocked out so hard the girls had to outfit me with the toile boppy this morning to support my neck.
Grandma McKenna is getting royally anxious to meet the chooch. They are a week out. In the meantime, we are training the beanser to fetch beers and look cute when guests come over. To that end, Uncle Hawes made a special appearance on Friday, bearing treats. This bottle of wine is the same vintage of my seersucker suit, and almost as delicious:
Jane saves her gas face for the witching hours. She's all roses for show and tell.
No baby blog would be complete without the gratuitous daddy and baby sleeping shot. Sadly, daddy doesn't do the mummy very angelically. He just handles repose like a Gilla Monster and smells like diaper.
Mom, however, continues to keep us well provisioned in the beauty department.
The hand model agent said we have a candidate. Unfortunately, we keep those strapped to her sides at all times. She has escape artist talent.
So serious, this one. Probably doing quadratic maths upstairs.
Back to work tomorrow. Should be shock and Awww.
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