sippy cup mutiny

Silly Mom and Dad. They're trying to get us to switch from bottles to sippy cups. They've even tried to sneak in three different kinds of cups, as if we wouldn't figure that out. But with our first birthday fast approaching, they've gotten more persistent. So Wyn and I are staging a Mutiny. As the unanimously elected leader of the Mutiny, I maintain my cool. I know it's only a matter of time...


Ah, yes. Victory once again.

brawny baby

To demonstrate that (as of today) I have the strength of an 11-month-old, I lift this giant ball with nothing but my own two hands!

today's word: "zygosity"

For months Zak and I have been requesting a DNA test to determine once and for all whether we're monozygotic (identical) or dizygotic (fraternal) twins. Well, the folks finally came through and ordered one up.


To collect our DNA, Mom and Dad had to swab the insides of our cheeks with a weird stick thing. We did not know this when we originally asked for the test. It was not fun.

Anyway, Dad mailed the samples earlier this evening. We should have the results in a couple of weeks. In the meantime, we're taking a poll. Do you think we're mono- or dizygotic? Send your guess to twintest@lipsey.org. (Sorry, Mom won't allow us to take monetary bets. Something about being underage.)

the flusher

Mine is a destiny that must be fulfilled at least once a day. Somehow, some way, I elude the watchful eyes of my keepers so that I may lay my hands on that glorious silver-toned device. One dazzling moment of anticipation, one decisive push downward, and then...ffffflllllluuuuusssshhhhh. The reward is mine.

I do not expect you to understand, only to allow me to continue my quest.

Until we meet again,
The Flusher

this just in

We interrupt this presentation of The Epic Adventures of Paperboy and The Flusher to bring you a special video report. Click on this fantastic photo of my brother to see it.

paperboy

Each morning I emerge from the sanctuary of my crib. Steadily, stealthily, I set out on the odyssey that is mine and mine alone. My mission: to seek out fallen bits of paper wherever they may hide. With utter disregard for my own safety, I will probe the depths of every trashcan. Slash through neatly stacked piles of magazines. And release each precious square of toilet paper from its cursed cylindrical confines. No, I shall not rest until every scrap of paper in this house is tucked safely into the roof of my mouth. I am...Paperboy.

Tune in next time for the saga of my fellow vigilante and intrepid partner: The Flusher.

pokey

'Scuse me there, kind sir or madam. I was wonderin'... if you might be so kind as to release me and my brother from this here pokey, we'd be much obliged. We done nothin' wrong. Honest. 'Twere the dog that did it, by gum.

standing, o!

The books call it "standing up." Zak and I call it "what we want to do every second of every day, when we're not crawling around getting into everything." Here we are playing with a Christmas present from Cousin Sam, The Stand-Up Ball Blast. The Stand-Up Ball Blast is very fun to play with/fight over. It's also very fun to push around the room/fight over which direction to push it around the room.

dinner and a show

The books call it "self-feeding." Wyn and I call it "playing with our food, and sometimes eating a little of it too." Actually, my brother's gotten pretty good at hitting his mouth with a spoon full of oatmeal. I myself prefer to put the spoon to more creative uses, such as painting the back of my high chair or my right earlobe.