Misho has discovered his own delicious image. Mirrors and anything that reflects are now his best friend. He looks longly at himself as if to say - "Damn, I am one good looking babe." And to reinforce this, the general public seems to agree with him.
As my husband just said - "Come on. Is it narcissism if you actually are just tremendously good looking?"
It seems that our Mr. M is one hot item with the soon-to-be-very-drunk, 20-something young lady crowd. We went out to dinner tonight at the regular baby witching hour of 5pm and dozens of trixied-out babes kept hitting on our baby. One of them actually squealed. Like a "I've seen a Jonas Brother" kind of squeal.
David and I think we could start a racket of picking up chicks for babysitting. Go out. Dress up Mr. M in lapels and spats. Sit next to a crew of ladies drowning in Michelob Ultra, looking for whatever they're looking for. Divert their hormonal instincts for a brief moment, bring them home and there you go - they're playing googly eyes with M-man and we're off to finally see "Milk." Of course we'll ask for references or a quick check of their Facebook pages, but I'm sure they're all upstanding young ladies in tight clothing.
Another update - Mr. M has also discovered baby humor. He thinks it's tremendously funny to bite and hold onto the spoon when being fed. Here's a couple of images of the moment.
He laughs hysterically under his breath while clamping onto the spoon. Slaps himself on the knee, snarfs, the whole bit.
Funny and good looking. Mr. M is turning into quite the package; a package that I had absolutely no genetic contribution to and yet I boast. Because really, who wouldn't?
1 year ago