They're Getting Along Swimmingly

First of all, I am sure you'll all be glad to know that instead of wearing the garish tie-on number I wore to swim lessons last week, tonight I'll be wedging myself into my sporty black 2-piece from last year. Now with more back fat! One more note about bathing suits, string bikinis are actually, I think, more flattering than most because you can adjust them to fit yourself perfectly without letting any skin/fat slop over the sides. My little speedo-wannabe number that I'll be sporting in a couple hours? No such luxury, ie muffin top city. So if you've never tried a tie-on suit, give it a whirl- -very liberating (I don't mean that in a watered down feminist girl power kind of way-- I mean it in a being naked in public kind of way).

Okay. I'm done obsessing about swimwear. Moving onto this:



Precious, huh? And doesn't Harry's shirt rock? We took him to a Jimmy Buffet restaurant just because he seemed dressed for it. Also, how cute are his toes peaking out from under the Boppy?

Lovingly poking Jack's eyes

Biting his head in a way that resembles a kiss to the untrained eye,

and trying to remove Jack's leg from his chubby widdle body.

Poor Jack. He can't even roll away-- just kind of flop to the side.

Usually when Jack is doing tummy time, Harry flings himself own on the floor and kicks his legs and pretends to cry, saying, "Harry's the baby! Harry's the baby!" Today, he decided to hang out with his brother without the mockery.


Then he jumped up

like the jolly little elf he is,

abandoning Jack to struggle weakly on the floor by himself,

and returning to his very elaborate drawing on the "big paper."

Here he is mid-cavort.