Fatherhood

Make no mistake, if Arwyn took me down, it wouldn’t be me that would be getting Stacy’s sympathy or concern.  I wouldn’t really blame her, as I’m sure that once I’d caught my breath and could actually speak more than a squeak, I’d be making sure that she was okay, too.  I really don’t get the thrill of walking back and forth between my legs, though.  I mean, if she’s looking to relive the birthing experience, she should be doing it to her mother.  ;P

My shirt says “It’s always darkest right before you step on the cat.”  You could continue that with “and twist your ankle trying to avoid falling down the stairs because the stupid furball doesn’t have enough sense to get out of the way, but I’m not bitter.”  …  *coughs*  Anyway, Stacy’s debuting a nice purple shirt with lacey sleeves, and Arwyn’s wearing a simple red shirt with cherry-covered pants.  And, yes, she’s sucking on a toy mustard bottle because why not.