There is the bruise. Of course, the tint was much deeper and the wound much more dangerous looking to anyone who would dare step-up to my daughter, but she wears it with pride.

The crackers are a wonderful display on how Ellz Bellz likes to eat Ritz crackers.

And finally, a new one of Fats III, or POD II. Redhead. Nice. Now, as soon as I get a DNA sample from my red-headed friends and neighbors some questions will be answered, but I will love him madly nonetheless.

Max and Lizzi have taken to slow dancing, and without mine nor Nikki's input or help Max has learned to twirl his sister. It is freakin awesome, and he pulls it off "in time" to the music. Already Max has shown great aptitude in musical rhythm, and he can clap, stomp or drum furniture to just about anything I throw at him. Last night he received multiple verbal lashings and warnings about beating the furniture and dining room table. When Nikki was not looking I exchanged beats with him, slapping our hands on the table during dinner. He immediately aped my rhythm, and he stymied me with his phat beats...I think he was listening to Meshuggah earlier...

As You Well May Know

There is something pretty unique and altogether special about having three children. And our layout is pretty sweet as well: BGB. Or Boy Girl Boy. Now, Max is the oldest, and thereby protector of sister by virtue of birth placement, but he is also sensitive and attuned to how others feel. So hopefully he will have no problem being attuned to the boys and their intentions with his little sister as she enters her 30's and starts dating. But know this, little Eliza James has been walking around...more like strutting around with a bruise on her face noticeable from Mt. Lemmon. (The pic was taken at Todd's last CORR race in Chula Vista CA last July) As she stood in line for the jumping gym at Max's soccer leagues Fun Day, the soccer dad who was manning the gate replied "I'd let her in with the big kids, but I don't want them to have their legs broken. She looks tough". Tough she is my friend. Tough she is. And try to tell her no. I can't do it. Much to Nikki's shagrin...but I am working on it babe. Really, I am. I working very hard on telling my Princess "Ummm...maybe not right now...". Now Jack. Number Three with a bullet, and quite the entrance he made. He will be tough, but not due to some rough handling by his big brother and sister, the two of them actually dote on him. Lizzi still calls him "baby", but often declares "oooohhh! He's so cute!". His toughness will rest in trying to be heard over the din that is Max and Lizzi at play. If it weren't for the baby monitor that Nikki puts near his bed, he may have to forage on his own throughout our bedroom
Yeah, it is pretty sweet being a dad. Stressful. Sometimes you want to choke the stuffing out of a couple of midgets, but you never do. And oh when they start dancing! Now that is the s@#t.

Recently...

Here are a few pics taken over the last month or so. Sue and Dan came down in early September, and the kids had a blast and the Nikster and I appreciated the time they were able to spend here. Max started soccer that month as well, and the circle of life has come full-freakin' circle as I still remember my first year of soccer playing for the Firecrackers. A year later I started with AYSO, the same league Max is in. Last night I tied him to a small soccer goal and pummeled him with shots thereby teaching him proper heading and trapping techniques. Seriously though, he gets totally amped for the games and practice, loves donning his shin guards and uniform, and the excitement begins to fizzle as soon as he starts the practice or the game. He would rather be at Grandma's house these days than doing just about anything else. As you can see from the pic he is not quite grasping the game's concept, but that is quite all right - I love to see him get so excited. He always stands by his coach at practice and the games, awaiting instruction and runs as fast as his duck legs will take him when told to go somewhere, but during the game he enjoys the scenery and looking for butterflies more than anything. His coach is great, he does not overwhelm the little guys and gals with instruction or directions, and just lets them play (i.e. stand and look at clouds). Go Sting!!