A few impossible things after breakfast.

We have a photo where all four of us are (mostly) in the picture:



Of course someone had to throw back his head and howl at the key moment, but hey, it looks like we're all related!

As for other impossibilities: Matt has the bug with him on a grocery store expedition, and the little howler monkey is currently asleep in the bouncy chair. I have just gotten three pages of grantwriting done in the last half-hour and am trying to complete this blog post before someone wakes up, gets home, needs help, or shares bodily fluids. It seems that this, too, may be possible.

There goes the garage door. :)

Monkey updates and bug moonshines.

He does sleep.  To my vague memory, more than his sister did in terms of hours in a row.  I don't want to jinx the pattern, but we are getting hours, plural, of rest at a time between night feedings. This is refreshing and we hope it persists.

He eats. Frequently, and quite a bit.  But well within the realm of normality.

He is in some ways the mirror image of his father.  He has the same sleepy half-smile, but it's on the other side of his face.  He has the same palm-line pattern (Matt calls it a simian crease but we disagree on the accuracy of that statement), but it's on the opposite hand.

He is in other ways vaguely reminiscent of his mother.  He does not like to be cold, and "cold" is achieved at temperatures that other humans consider "warm," say around 70 degrees. He is not difficult to soothe and seems fairly practical about basic functional matters.  ("Wet diaper gone? Dry one on? Well, that's over then. Done crying.")

His sister adores him.  Wants to touch him, stroke his hair, cover him with kisses, hold him, poke at him, and generally show all forms of love and affection as often as she is allowed near him, or until she wanders off to watch the Olympics.  She has not shown sign one of any kind of sibling jealousy yet, but rather displays a constant wonder about what he's doing and a deep pride that he is her brother, which makes her now a big sister.  She relishes the role.

In short, we thrive. It feels awesome, as in being full of awe, to be a foursome at last.

Best. Ever. Reason to delay in posting.

This is our son.  In keeping with my bloggy tradition I'm not posting his full name on here, but rest assured I deterred Matt from "Thrakazog Thorfin Skullsplitter Hrothgar Beasley" successfully.

He arrived Tuesday morning at 5:42 a.m., four days ahead of schedule.  He weighed 8 lb, 8 oz, and was 21 1/4 inches long.  (Within an ounce of the bug's stats, and he was three weeks earlier!)

Today (Friday) is the great return to the homestead to see what havoc Matt has wreaked in my absence.  There may be a slight unrealistic expectation of the bug sitting in the middle of the floor with a number of open containers of food; I have an image of her with a jar of peanut butter and a spoon.  But she's a resourceful girl and is likely just fine.

You have received a video e-card!

To our nephew and the bug's cousin, on the momentous occasion of his fourth birthday.  We wish we could be there with you to share cupcakes with sprinkles, and we can't wait until you visit in a couple of weeks.

Much love from all of us!

An unusual argument for arts education.

From the Boston Globe:

Using Art to Make Better Doctors

I found this particularly interesting because of its emphasis on how art from various periods can be used to teach observation skills that transfer well into other arenas.  I've heard a lot of arguments regarding how arts education helps students excel in other subjects, for example how music helps many students succeed in math, but this one was new to me.