Chop Chop

Okay, the next bit of scary news: Dylan is entering kindergarten in less than a month. Hang on while I refill my vodka tonic. Yeah, you're right, screw the tonic. Dylan will be going for only a half day to school. I believe it will be the afternoon slot because there is a bloodbath among the moms around here for the morning slot. Seriously, I saw a couple of women behind some minivans. I saw brass knuckles and a spear, but I don't want to come to any irrational conclusions.

To get Dylan ready, I had to fill out close to a million papers, sign everywhere, initial next to everything, and call in my team of attorneys. The school has also adopted a school uniform of collared only shirts and pants which meet decency requirements. I'm not unhappy about the uniform as I can remember the horrid teasing that occurs when your shirt didn't have the right brand name plastered all over it.

We decided to start cutting Dylan's hair ourselves since it was too much of a pain to take him somewhere and pay $30 for the both of the boys to have a chop. Since Mark buzzes his head with the clippers, we did the same for Dylan- but we kept it a bit longer than Mark's. Jordan, on the other hand, was gifted with a mohawk.


Yes, that's right- a mohwak. What have I learned from this decision? My family hates it. Here's how I see it: Jordan is two years old. He's not in school (not that that would really persuade me anyway), and he has the personality for one. Above all else- he really likes it. It's not like I'm spoon-feeding him heroin. A little crack from time to time, but no heroin.

Beer, brownies, and babysitters. Not necessarily in that order...

As some of you may know, we celebrated my brother in law's 21st birthday on Saturday. This was the second celebration for him. We had hired a babysitter for the occasion, and she brought one of her girlfriends with her. I couldn't have asked for a better babysitter. I'm sure we'll be using her again in the near future.

So, our night? Interesting to say the least. We had a school bus taking us from bar to bar. There aren't too many pictures that I'll post. I spent most of the night shaking it in cages and trying to keep away from the local crazies. Always easier said than done. Once Mark finally convinced me that it was time to go home, I ended up making a pan of brownies.

Picture explanations:

Above left- Two friends, Me, and my brother in law.
Above right- dancing, duh
Below right- Me yelling at my friends for not dancing in the cage with me, like we could've fit anymore in there

Don't ask about the hand gestures. You don't want to know.