Baby Pics

On our recent trip to Seattle, my Mom brought along my childhood photo album and gave it to me. I was flipping through it with the boys today and noticing how much Porter and Luke look like me when I was a kid. At least I think so. Walker, not so much. Tell me what you think.

This is me about 8 months old.




This is me at 1 year


Apparently my drinking habit started early.


This is me at 2 years.




This is me at 5 years.




Don’t be sad Walker, you look more like your Mom, and she’s definitely cuter than me.  Sorry, Luke & Porter, you’re stuck with it.


Watch Your Mouth

Sorry it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything, but I’ve been recuperating from the hectic month of blog war. Plus I’ve been a little busy with a trip to Seattle (check out the photos in the sidebar) and with a flooding basement. But, things are relatively quiet tonight, so I thought I would write a few words.

I just finished putting the boys’ bunk beds back together after they recently smashed one of them to bits by jumping out of the window sill onto it. Good times. But, a few 1×4’s from the hardware store, some Gorilla glue and a few screws later, we’re back and stronger than ever.

Mostly I wanted to record a fun experience I had with Walker the other day. Walker is almost 4 and he says some funny things. He seems to hear everything that is said (even though you think he’s not listening to anything at all), and spits it back out at the strangest moments.

It was around 4:30 on Wednesday afternoon, and I needed to head down to the bank before closing time to deposit some checks. So, I grabbed Walker to ride along with me for company and to get him out of Karli’s hair, if only for 20 minutes. We got to the bank and headed inside, but found the door locked. Crap. Apparently the bank closes at 4:00 here in Vanderhoof instead of 5:00. I was a bit peeved but I don’t think I said anything, just turned Walker around and headed back out to the truck. Along the way I heard Walker say something to himself that sounded suspiciously like “damn it!” I turned around and asked him to repeat himself. He looked at me and said, very calmly, “I said damn it, because the bank was closed.”

Obviously he must have heard that from someone else, since I have such a clean mouth and would never curse around our children, so as I helped him back into the truck I explained that sometimes grownups say that word, but little boys are not allowed to talk that way. Walker looked at me wistfully and said, “OK, but when I’m a grown up, I’m going to say it all the time!”

That’s my boy.