My how you've grown...
Mom and Janie and I sure do love you, Samson James. Happy birthday, little man.
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About Me
- dada
- Call me dada. This has, in the few months since my son started "talking," become my name. I'm sure (at least I hope) it will eventually morph into something less early 20th century art movementy --- but I am marked forever as dada. And this is a good thing. I have no real advice to offer, other than always carry Cheerios and extra onesies, and I don't really have a lot of 'wacky' adventures to regale you with. Truth be told, this is as much for me as it is for you. So, uh, thanks for stopping by. I hope it's at least an interesting time-killer. And if not, consider this an ironic exercise in skewering the bourgeouis notions of 21st century American parenthood by deconstructing the materialist ethos that has turned childhood into a demographic and rendered adults simultaneous enablers and slaves. Or something.
Blog Archive
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2007
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September
(23)
- Vintage Sam
- Flashback
- Guess who's not napping?
- Renaissance Man
- Bring your daughter to work day
- A Sam by any other name...
- Milestone
- Scared straight: birthday edition
- Birthday recap
- Year in review
- Shoeless Sam
- Rotisserie league
- Rock and Roll
- Swimsuit issue
- The birthday party
- Update
- Sweet Janie blue eyes
- M.I.A.
- Rock on
- Back to school (again)
- A man and a woman had a little baby...
- The good earth, part II
- Luuuuke, I am your uncle...
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September
(23)
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