(Don't get the extra "inator"? Watch some Phineas & Ferb, or read about the Inator Inator, and come back.)
Lately, he has taken to punching any and all things resembling his father's face. Unfortunately for Steve, the only thing that resembles his face is, well, his face. He is starting to develop an abuse victim's persona.
"Me? I wouldn't hurt a fly... just a Dada." |
Bruce, in timeless toddler tradition, has taken to giving direction. Lots of direction. Lots of direction followed by the stern threat of "... or I give you spank." Our decision to call him our 'Little Dictator' doesn't seem too far off, either.
"DO MY BIDDING!" |
To wrap-up the post, I must give thanks for something that I realize I have taken for granted all my life:
A warm house.
Our brand-spanking-new gas furnace decided to crap out last Tuesday, leaving us with a frigid house and no idea what to do about it aside from drink homemade lemoncello (Mom and Dad), cry (Rex), meow (CatKirk and Butters), and ask to watch more 'Little Einsteins' (Bruce). Okay, I might have joined Rex on the crying front.
Turns out all that snow and rain the week before led to the spontaneous creation of Lake WhatTheHell in the crawlspace under our house, a lake that the sump pump wasn't prepared to deal with. The waters rose (to over a foot high) and flooded our furnace, and *POOF*! No more heat. Buh-bye warmth, hello layers.
After numerous emails, voicemails, text messages, and phone calls... and the passage of an entire week... we have heat once again, and no longer have to live in fear of one of the space heaters sparking and burning our house down while we're at work. It would just be too much to take right now.
SO, there you have it! A mini-update from your favorite mini-family. Until next time, be sure to floss and color inside the lines.
- Krystal