Master Archer? Probably not.

Colin is a tremendously easy baby. He's so easy that we can tote him along on all our errands and to friends' houses, and he happily hangs-out, listening to what's going on and contributing with various coos, gurgles, snorts, and growls. After nearly 11 weeks like this, I was starting to think that, maybe, Colin was really something special. Not just special, but, like, really remarkable. Like maybe he'd talk especially early or discover a prodigous ability in math (... or music... or archery... anything) by age 3. He just seems so put together, how could he not? But then, this happened:

We spent Friday night hanging-out with our friends, Shawn and Andrea They have two kids, so Andrea has a stockpile of age-appropriate toys for C-Monkey. During one of Colin's more sage moments - in which he looked like he was lapping up all that was going on around him and filing it in some sort of impressive mental filing cabinet - Andrea hung this toy* from the handle of his car seat:

All contemplation was lost. Colin went berserk for that frog. He stared at it, enraptured, for at least three minutes. So, I take back my aspirational speculation that Colin might be a master archer at 3. Apparently, Colin's mental machinations are far more humble; they're more like, "That frog is off the hook!"

* Some facts have been changed for the ease of storytelling. Mostly, what changed was the type of animal. In reality, it was a striped blue tiger. But apparently, Bright Starts no longer makes the striped blue tiger clip-on friend. It was replaced by a (far less imaginative) green frog. So, really, Colin thinks that a blue tiger is off the hook. I wish I didn't have to resort to artistic license in only my fourth blog post, but I didn't have a camera handy to show the real toy, and I had to rely on finding what I could on the internet. If you have a complaint, I suggest you take it to Bright Starts.

Popeye.

I have been back to work - in either part-time or full-time capacity - for almost three weeks. For the first two weeks, my co-workers heckled me for not having any photos of Colin in my office. So, this week, to make amends, I brought in some of my favorite pictures.

It's worth noting that, while Colin is smiling now and has been for several weeks, he doesn't smile at just anything. His smiles are hard-earned. As a result, he isn't smiling in any of the pictures. He is, however, doing this:

I'm crazy about this picture. I think it's hilarious. However, in just one day, three of my co-workers (three!) said he looks like Popeye. I didn't know three people in one office could even remember what Popeye looks like - let alone, compare Colin's shrewd, discerning smirk to Popeye's whatever-he's-doing.*

* Apparently, there's some debate on this. Wikipedia says that early renditions of Popeye had him with only one good eye (he lost his right eye in "the mos' arful battle" of his life). Later, his right eyewas just squinty. Either way, Popeye isn't supposed to be a good-looking dude.

Clearly, I'm biased. And clearly, I'd rather think my son looks like Brad. Or me. Basically, anyone who isn't a one-eyed, 1950's cartoon character. Even with that disclosure, I don't see the similarity. But what do I know? I'm just his mom.

Colin.

Here is my reason for blogging. He's a pretty cool customer. His favorite past times include looking out the window (especially at trees), staring in the mirror (especially at himself), kicking (especially his mom, usually right in the stomach), and upper right cuts (especially his dad, usually as a way of waking him up in the morning).

We've Landed.

Brad and I have a miserable Internet presence. Google searches of our names come up with droll and boring hits. We have decided to change that for the better. So, in an effort to gussy up our Internet presence, we had a kid. We named him Colin, and we hope that Colin will give us enough material that we can muster some blog entries. That way, when you Google us, you won't come up empty-handed. And we don't look so lame. Instead, we look self-aggrandizing. A change for the better? Let's hope.