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| Shh, don't let on, but our family is weird... |
Milo met his grandparents' new kitten, Ginger, this weekend, and was talking some nasty trash about Ginger's new peeps. Nah, not only wasn't he sharing any hot dish, but he wasn't even interested in the kitten, unlike his mom, who was, yeah, I'll say it: smitten. This picture makes it look like the kid is completely into her, but I don't even think he understood her as a living thing. In fact, the only animal around our house that he connects with at all is Olivia, our dog, because she's big and barks loudly at the mailman and moves in a way that registers on his radar. Our two cats are basically just hairy throw pillows to him; he could care less.
And now for something completely different. Please take note of the huge patches of missing hair on Milo's temple(s); this expansive forehead is why Ben and I independently came to the conclusion that our son looks like Peter Boyle in
Young Frankenstein, a comparison my mother simply loathes. I don't know why. It's funny to us. We're sort of over it by now, but when we realized that we both thought that Boyle was the celebrity Milo most resembles, we had a lot of fun propping him up on our laps and singing
Putting on the Ritz. Gotta hand it to him, though, he's been a good sport about it.
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