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Sh*t my son says – by popular request.

A lot of my friends have said I ought to capture more succinctly the funny/cute/clever things my son Gus observes. Not one to disappoint, I’ve captured a few of his gems here. I fully understand that I post pictures and thoughts about my kids that exceed the limit of what is considered modest. I hear you. I’m definitely not going to stop, because someday the roundup of fodder I can present to my kids will be awesome, and probably embarrassing — but I hear you. Look away if this is overkill.

 

1. Gus: “Mom, I need a bunch of money, please.”

Me: “For what?”

Gus: “College.”

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Lessons From a Single Parent Home

The other day I was watching my little boys do little boy things. I’ve been taking a photography class, and I’ve spent the last few weeks lurking in odd positions on the floor to capture interesting pictures. I was trying to get the light and composition just right, so that I can prove to myself that I was actually learning how to use the camera’s myriad controls.

Sometimes Gus is a willing subject, but one day he was particularly annoyed that his dad wouldn’t get out of his face, literally. And that’s when I realized how happy I was that Gus has a dad around to actually annoy him.

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Madness On Little Squam Lake: Our Summer Vacation

Just over a year old, Gus completed his ninth cross-country trek (eighteenth if you count both ways). If he could say more than a few words, which he can’t, he’d probably say he had a heck of a vacation on the East Coast this summer.

Instead, he just smiles and says “ball.” As in, he had a ball.

Gus had a ball

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News Every Daddy Blogger Loves to Share: My Wife is Pregnant Again!

We rarely argue, but one evening a few months ago Bixie and I quarreled over an unwashed sauté pan in the kitchen. I decided it needed to soak overnight; she decided to badger me about it unceasingly; we both decided that staring at the ceiling was better than having to speak to one another between the covers that night.

It was a real domestic dustup!

Flash forward to the next morning. I’m sitting in my leather chair before work, my eyes toggling back and forth between emails and our son Gus, who is incessantly spinning one of the noisy contraptions inside his walker-toy-thingamajig. Whenever our eyes meet he smiles broadly and tilts his head to the side, like a puppy curious about a funny noise.

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