This is my somber pre-9am look.

Showing Franny the proper way to flail your arms.

Me and Grampa Dwight at McCormick and Schmidts

Hey Y’all.

Been 4 weeks plus since your last update on the ever-entertaining life of Moi. (That’s “Me” in French– I’ve learned a lot since we last spoke) Things at Miss Jet’s house are good. Daddy says I love going there, cause I put on my big drooly smile whenever we get to her door. Miss Jet and me spend a lot of time on the playmat so I am really good at rolling around on the floor. I like rolling around on the floor so much I tried to roll myself off the changing table once to get to the floor. I don’t think Mommy liked that– now she pins me down like she’s “Stone Cold” Steve Austin whenever I need a fresh diaper.

Speaking of fresh diapers, I have graduated to size 3!! (Applause) Which basically means I am taller and fatter, and need more room in my britches. My stats? 27 inches long (75th percentile), 16 lbs fat (25th percentile).

Speaking of 25th percentile, Mommy is doing way better than that in Dental school. It’s hard and stressful, but she says she just looks at me and remembers to take it one day at a time (like me), smile (like me), and consult Elmo on all topics related to the brachial plexus (I told you I’ve learned a lot). She’s made some nice friends at school, all of whom have two things in common: 1- they adore me, and 2-have me pegged as future dentist, class of 2034.

In other news, Daddy just had a birthday. He’s 24 now. I got him a shirt for his birthday with my pic on it, dressed in my swim gear, with the caption, “My fastest swimmer.” And you thought I couldn’t get any cuter.

And speaking of getting cuter, I will do my best to keep the pictures flowing, but my novel-writing effort has, and prolly will continue to taper off. Blame it on the brachial plexus. Updates will come when topoisomerase and the cranial nerves are not interfering with my witty Hugo-isms that will make you roll on the floor (with me) in laughter.

And on that note, snaps for Monday.