Destined For A Life In Pajamas?

My life has changed significantly over the past several weeks, and during this period of transition my blogging efforts have fallen by the wayside. If your life has been devoid of entertainment and wit due to my lack of blogging, which I'm fairly certain is the case, fear not, my faithful followers. Weston is back (I usually reprove the use of the third person to speak about oneself, but sometimes the circumstance just calls for it).

There was one primary change that took place in my life which precipitated a flurry of other smaller changes.

Mommy and I both knew it would happen, but we were both living in denial until the day finally came. It happened on February 12 (coincidentally, Daddy's birthday). Mommy had to return to work. We had a nice long run together, mommy and I. Five and a half blissful months of me and mommy time. Five and a half sublime months of long walks, playdates, lunches, outings, giggle sessions, games, story time, and daily chatter. It was the best five and a half months of my life.

But now mommy's back at work and I'm spending my days with my nanny Rodica. She's pretty cool too. She talks to me and plays with me all day. She makes me laugh. She feeds me a lot of new and exciting solid food meals each day. She keeps me on a regular nap schedule like a civilized baby who is not galavanting about town all day. And we have a grand old time together.

But the best part of my day? When mommy runs through the front door each evening and sweeps me up in her arms.

Of course, it hasn't been all fun and games. There have been a few unfortunate consequences resulting from mommy's return to work.

One, I've been forced to begin accepting a bottle. Anyone who knows me knows that I have refined tastes. Until this point, I have refused to take my meals out of such a barbaric and unnatural contraption as a bottle. My motto: breast is best. Nobody thought they'd see the day when I would accept that coarse and highly inferior form of eating, the bottle. But it happened.

Two, my daily wardrobe is borderline egregious in terms of fashionability these days. I now wear pajamas. All day. Every day. And don't get me wrong, I look strikingly handsome in my pajamas, if I do say so myself. But, for the love of god, can someone help me put on some jeans and a nice sweater now and then? If only I had the physical prowess and dexterity to dress myself.

Beyond that, the transition has been fairly smooth. Mommy is happy. I'm happy. Daddy is happy that mommy and I are both happy. And things are going well.

In other news, Wells and I have advanced our romance. Brady and I have advanced our bromance. And mommy, daddy and I have started going to swim lesson on Sundays (which will be the sole subject matter of a different blog post).

Love,
WFT

Random Happenings

Below is a collection of very random photographs snapped over the past couple of weeks. I've been eating a lot of solids (my unequivocally favorite meal is rice cereal, of all things), I've made a new friend named Sheep (M & D's old stuffed animal... yes, you read that correctly... M & D actually owned a stuffed animal before I arrived), I've had my butt grabbed by a member of the opposite sex (who is not mommy) for the first (and hopefully not the last) time, I've been playing with scarves during music class and I've been reading books with M & D each night before bedtime.

Love,
WFT

Where Were Da Bears?

Last night I experienced my first Super Bowl. It wasn't very exciting. First, I thought we'd be watching the Bears, naturally, if we were watching football, but they were nowhere to be seen. Daddy and I both wore our Bears gear. Daddy must have been expecting the Bears to play too. Second, even without the Bears, the game would have been more palatable if it had been an exciting one. Fat chance. The Seahawks embarrassed the Broncos. Third, I wasn't able to pay attention to any of the commercials because of all the hubbub in our home. Despite the disappointment resulting from no Bears, a bad game, and unwatched commercials, it was a fun evening because by buddy Hugo and his parents came over and another set of parents whom M & D recently met came by and introduced me to a new friend - 10 month old baby Allison.

Not many pictures were taken during the evening, but mommy managed to snap a few random shots.

Love,
WFT

Oh, Mexico

A little while ago, I took my second international vacation. I'm officially a veteran jet setter now.

Around the same time, Daddy was forced (against his will, he assured me) to leave us for a long weekend to go on a ski trip to Vail (for work, he assured me). Daddy was very torn up about it. I could see it in his eyes. That's why mommy suggested that she and I tag along. Again, daddy was very torn up when he vetoed that proposal.

So mommy had a bright idea. She, Buni and I would migrate south for a couple of days to escape this Syberia-esque Chicago winter. Our destination: Cancun, Mexico. Mommy informed me that Cancun is where college kids like to go during spring break to engage in such tomfoolery as "underage drinking" (which she assures me I will never be foolish enough to do), but that we were going to the more civilized part of Cancun and staying at a very nice resort called, coincidentally enough, The Westin.

Mexico was a blast. It was warm and sunny and tropical. The resort was amazing and our little villa felt just like home. I went to the beach for the very first time. Wore shorts and went shirtless. Basked in the warm weather on a lounge chair under a large umbrella. Dipped my toes in the ocean several times (and promptly cried each time because the waves were very scary). Retired to the baby pool, which was more my speed - warm, calm, no wind, no waves, no sand (if it weren't for the rambunctious and immature children stomping about in the baby pool, I could have sat there all day). Took walks along the beach with mommy and Buni (the walks I enjoyed more because I was in a carrier and nowhere near the sand and waves).

All in all, I had a grand old time. Below are some pictures. Eat your heart out, Polar Vortex.

Amor,
WFT