Fort

Everyone needs a place to call their own. I'm no exception. Welcome to my secret fort. A place to get away from it all, enjoy a nice sippy cup of milk, play a bit of peek-a-boo, and perhaps enjoy a fine pacifier. A fine spot to relax and unwind from a hectic day of chasing the dogs, reading books, climbing the sofa, and generally running a muck.

As you can see, my fort is quite roomy. Plenty of space to stretch out and up. There are two fine windows to let in the light and my fort is light enough that I can move it so as to be closer to the windows should I need to remark on the passing cars that frequent our street. I do not recommend that one lean against the fort however, as it lacks the structural integrity to support the weight of your average 18 month old. One is liable to topple the whole a fair over and bonk one's head.

I will admit the colors are a bit loud in the old fort, like having Big Bird do your decorating. I have a designer coming to make some recommendations, a bit of paint, some throw pillows, a valance or two -- spruce the old fort up you know. Perhaps I'll inquire if she knows a good gardener.



- Fox out.

My First Matchbox

Every boy remembers his first car, 'er well Matchbox in this instance. No exception in my case. My first Matchbox car is unforgettable. A slick 1963 Cadillac Hearse, white of course. It was a Christmas gift to me from Grandpa Mike. If you know Grandpa Mike, this all makes sense to you. At Christmas I was a bit too young to drive it around, but I am plenty big now! I have just recently rediscovered the hearse after digging in my box of toys, now I cannot let it go. I'm even sleeping with the '63 white hearse! It usually ends up on the floor, but try to take it out of my sticky little paws when you lay me down and I'll wake the neighbors! I've never considered the funerary sciences before but who knows ... at least the cars are nice!



- Fox out

Nose, Ears

I have a nose, often quite runny and fully of the remnants my parents were unable to wipe away after I've shoveled food into my mouth. It sits here in the middle of my face, you can see it here, I'm pointing to it now. If you ask me to, I will point to my nose when I am in the mood to do so. And no I am not picking my nose, at least not in this photo.

I have two ears as well and unlike my nose they are not runny, but are I will admit they are often full of the remnants of a fine meal I have just consumed. If you have not heard, I am a bit of a messy eater. I will also point out my ears when asked to do so, provided the spirit moves me to do so. Seems I only point out the one ear, the left one with any sort of consistency. It has been remarked by one who shall remain unnamed, that I have my father's ears and that this genetic trait is one that would have been better left to my mother's half of the gene pool. There's a critic in every crowd, right Melo?

Personally, I am happy with my body, runny nose, baby belly, stubby toes and all!

-Fox out.

Busy, busy

Sometimes a guy just gets tuckered out. Watching a Sunday football game, after a turkey dinner, watching home renovation shows on the T.V. for three straight hours, and riding in the car. Just put me in the old car seat, put the transmission in drive and within five minutes, I'm out. OK, sometimes 10 minutes, but without fail I am soon counting sheep.

Seems there are always errands to be run and before long, I find myself strapped in like an unwitting astronaut off on another journey. Strapped down, we are soon zooming off to points as yet unknown. And more likely than not, within that five minute window I'll be drooling, head slumped to one side like an overripe tomato on a spindly vine sleeping as though I've pulled an all-nighter before a calculus exam.

Soon enough I'll be waking back in my own drive none worse for the wear, although my shirt collar will invariably be soaked and my chin glistening with slobber. Again, I'll be blissfully unaware of the details of another outing. We could have gone 10 miles, we could have gone 10,000, and I am none the wiser. For all I know they drove me around the block until I fell asleep just so I'd take a nap. They'd never do anything like that ... would they?

- Fox out.

Fox in a Box

Today was pajama day at "school" (day care). Other than being more comfortable and less restrictive, it was much like any other day at school. I read some books, played with cars, played with friends, eat, painted with blue paint, filled my pants, and napped, comfortably. Needless to say, I am still in my pajamas even though I am now at home as you can plainly see by the photos. I'll bet you wish you could wear pajamas to school, or work, or where ever it is that you go during the day. Other than an initial unease about the clothing selection that was made for me this morning, pajama day has been a smashing success. I highly recommend it. Perhaps you should suggest pajama day to your boss, or care provider, teacher, or whom ever it is that makes your wardrobe selections for the day. Most agreeable, tell them I said so.

- Fox out

Jam

Now I realize, given my stated penchant for all things food, that titling a blog "Jam" could be misleading to some folks. This post has nothing to do with the sweetest of the food arts my fine friends. As a man of the world, I understand that there are other equally pleasurable experiences out there aside from filling my tummy. Fine literature, works of art, a comfortable pacifier, music, and ah ... dancing. Yes, I shake my groove thing every now and then. Don't think the son of my father's gene pool has the moves? Turn up the volume and just click play folks, just click play.

- Fox out.

Pudding ...

Well you tell me, what would you do if you were eating yummy pudding, left handed, and you could not shovel it in fast enough to satisfy your craving for the sweet stuff? You'd do the same thing I do, shovel it in your mouth with your fingers. Need I remind you of my penchant for sweets? I though not. Don't get between me and my pudding. I have teeth and I'm not afraid to use them.

But seriously, isn't pudding good! I could eat that stuff all day long. Something tells me though that the old parental units would not let that happen. Nope, they keep putting vegetables, fruits (which I don't mind, especially mandarin oranges and blueberries) , mashed up mystery meats, and assorted grains and cereals, (all equally mysterious) on my tray. You'd think after seeing me smash it into my lap or throwing it onto the floor they'd get the hint.

A side note, aren't I getting big! If you cannot read the yard stick below, I'm about 30 inches tall now! I'm huge! And putting on some serious weight I might add. Probably about 250, 275 pounds now. (Parental interjection: Fox is about 22 - 23 pounds, but feels like 250). I'm just about all grown up now. I'll soon be asking for the keys to the car so I can go driving, playing loud rock and roll, flouting authority, and stuff. Yeah, going out with the ladies, on dates, going to the movies, running errands, on the phone, doing homework. Yeah, just like all the big people do. I'll be cool ... Soon enough, soon enough.


- Fox out