Twenty-Six Days

Twenty-six days. That's how long until we go from just two humans, one cat, and several self-employed stuffed animals to an actual family. While being extremely excited, I have also been experiencing the medical condition known as "freaking out." The symptoms include: Realization that millionaire status has not yet been attained, saying colorful words as both automobiles break down simultaneously, thinking because the cat dislikes me the baby will also find me unacceptable, and explosive diarrhea. Mojo wanted to help reduce my stress and suggested we play a game of Scrabble. So much for relaxation, Mojo schooled me!



Samantha has been experiencing new and exciting changes as well. With her stomach stretched to the limit and Sheridan growing a pound a week, we can both watch as what appears to be a small roller coaster makes its runs inside her belly. I told Samantha that's what my stomach feels like all the time too, what with all the horrible gas I constantly have. She didn't think this was an appropriate analogy. I don't know, I've farted so loud in my office that other co-workers thought it was a sneeze and said "God Bless You." Oh, and another thing - when the doctor tells your wife she's dilated to one centimeter, don't tell her later at home that you have to go the bathroom because your butt is dilated to five centimeters.

Samantha has also developed a charming bedtime habit. Each night when the clock strikes 8:30, Sam transforms into The Snore Monster. The Snore Monster plays nightly and presents the following selections:

"The Snort" - This melodious offering prominently features the nostrils violently sucking in air and then silently expelling it. The combo of "I think she's stopped" and "Oh no, she's still going" is not to be missed!

"The Gurgle" - A throaty creation that causes the husband to suspect drowning.

"The Darth Vader" - With mouth agape, a sinister rhythm of breathing will have you reaching for your lightsaber all night long

"The Gear Shifter" - A careful recreation of a student driver operating a stick shift for the very first time

"The Freight Train" - The granddaddy of them all, this number inhales and exhales at full speed through both the nostrils and mouth, gaining in volume and intensity until it reaches a crescendo of epic proportions.

Since Mojo lives on our bed and knows how hard it is to sleep with the Snore Monster, he has offered to help defray some of the costs of baby supplies. He thought he could help the most if he served as Sheridan's car seat for the first two years.



He of course, is an idiot. But it's the thought that counts.

Tax Time

It's that time of year to give to Caesar what is Caesar's and the Mojobrand Corporation is no different. At least I thought they weren't. After soccer practice Mojo is allowed 45 minutes on the computer, and he's spent the last week working with TurboTax.
Last night in the middle of his work he scampered into the kitchen where Samantha was serving up banana smoothies and I sat down to check my email. I couldn't help but notice his tax form on the screen and it was full of names I did not recognize!
According to the computer, Mojobrand employed the following people:

Milquetoast
Elbows
Holiday Toad
Shoes
Sergio Mendes

These weren't the employees of Mojobrand, they were horrible aliases! Mojo was going to defraud the IRS!
Mojo saw me looking at his taxes and scratched me with his attack paw. FYI - Mojo has an attack paw (The left one, which is sharp and angry) and a comfort paw (The right one, which is soft and encouraging). I tried to explain to him that tax evasion was the reason Willie Nelson couldn't come to his birthday party but he would not listen. He became a brown tornado of fur and claws that drove me away. The worst part is not that he won't pay taxes but that he chose his alias to be Milquetoast.