My friends asked to take me to birthday lunch which used to mean exactly that - "wanna go to birthday lunch" - but now means "can we help you ditch your dead weight baby for the afternoon in honor of your birthday?". Obviously I said yes, did my best Mel Gibson impression ("FREEEEDOOOOM"), and literally made a run for it.
Birthday lunch was fabulous, just like we girlies are. We dined, we shopped, we drug our feet so I could enjoy the sweet taste of baby free air just a little longer - which does actually taste better or rather, different. It tastes like a warm meal, clean hands, and iPhoning in peace.
During birthday lunch, Libby made an off handed comment: "Do you ever wonder what Chuck and Sam do when they are alone?"
Good news. We found out.
While I was at birthday lunch, Chuck gelled Sam's hair and blew it dry ala Pauly D from the Jersey Shore.
I cannot make this stuff up.
Sorry, Sam wasn't ready for that pic apparently, so we'll try again.
There. Much better.
This is what they did during their father-son bonding alone time. I came home to Guido Baby and the proudest Charles I've seen since he built the 8 foot tall scratching post without me knowing.
Obviously, I took 749 pictures to document this so you could see it from all angles. It took gallons of gel because apparently, baby hair sucks up that stuff like nobody's business. This I've been told - I wouldn't know; I haven't gotten Sam ready for any days at the Jersey Shore yet.
|Direct quote from Chuck: "I like this picture best because it really captures what I was going for and my vision for Sam's overall look." Uh huh.|
This is your father, Sam. You share DNA. I feel bad in as much as I don't.