Many people have demanded a photo of Jeff and his burnt off hair, and to those people I say this: I cannot take a picture of what is not there. I should have grabbed the camera right after The Incident, but in the heat of the moment (yuk yuk), my heart was beating too fast and it just didn't occur to me. His hair was uniformly singed, and now you don't even notice:
In Kurt related news, Kurt is fat. Jeff referred to him as Late Stage Brando today. Jeff calls a spade a spade. You can't argue with the photographic evidence, either. Observe the skinny baby of eight weeks ago:
And the fat baby of today:
Not just fat, but at times, downright happy. I would still characterize his overall temperament as serious, but we've seen much more laughter and smiles. He does it most spontaneously at indecent hours, usually right after the sun has risen. He doesn't just give them up, however. He makes you work for it. Max and Danielle are way better at working for it than we are:
The last six years have been an exercise of will and creativity to see how much crap we could fit into a 784 square foot apartment (counting balconies and stairwell). Tomorrow we admit defeat, load up a U-haul, and take a huuuge amount of crap to a storage unit to make more room for our pudgy baby and all his stuff. I expect our quality of life to increase dramatically.