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The weary travelers

In another one of those moves that would give our pediatrician a heart attack, we took Kurt up to Sacramento to meet his Grandma Tetloff, three aunts, two uncles and two out of three Sacramento cousins. It's a drive that, in the past, has usually taken about six and a half hours. This time it took eight hours to get there and ten to get back. It was totally worth it. Turns out that my mom, go figure, is quite good with babies.

I failed to get a single picture of Kurt and his aunts that they wouldn't later shoot me for posting on the internet. However, there were several internet worthy pictures of my nephew Bryan, holding his littlest cousin. Here's one: (I would just like to say that I held Bryan when he was a baby. And here he is. Holding my baby. Whoa.)
Kurt was excellent during the drive. He slept and/or babbled most of the time. I drove the majority of the way, with Jeff in the back. It was therapeutic, proving to both Kurt and myself that I can go hours without holding him and neither one of us will burst into flames.
Kurt is not yet a smiley baby. He does smile, though it's a bit random and rarely aimed at me or a camera, like so:

He still very much does his Kurt the Alert thing, staring about with an inquisitive expression:More often than not however, we are faced with his classic "I am not of this world" stare…The day he was born, I declared, in my euphoria, that his little face radiated intelligence. Last night he was crying and flailing and punched himself in the face.

3 thoughts on “The weary travelers”

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