Little Fuzzball concentrates hard to get that toy is his mouth 

K & W mug for the camera 

Wilder shows off his blue eyes and his fine motor skills. 

Papa Scott (posted for our good friend, Jeff Gryder) 

Mama Scott (Hiya Gryder!!) 

Our 'lil punk rocker 

Listen lady, can you go away? I'm trying to shove my whole fist in my mouth here ... 

Get It Together People

Hello, this is Wilder. I have taken hostage of this blog. Please do not try to help these people who refer to themselves as my "parents." If you try to rescue them, I will surely exact my revenge in the form of raging stinky diapers and thrice-nightly waking sessions. I may be 3 months old, but I can be hell-on-wheels if you force my hand.

Anyway, my demands are simple:

1. I want my bottle prepared BEFORE I have to start hollerin' bloody murder for it. Is it THAT hard to figure out when I'm getting hungry? Are you people really not paying attention? What do you think you have, a life or something?

2. Get that stinky dog out of my face. It's bad enough he wants to lick my chin ... his breath is unholy and if I have to breath it one more time, I might keel over.

3. While we're on the subject of these furballs you call your "pets," tell the freakin' cat that those things hanging from my play gym are MY TOYS. Not his. Keep his claws away from them or I will pull his tail. Repeatedly. Until I'm 12.

4. I like a clean diaper. I repeat: I. LIKE. A. CLEAN. DIAPER.

5. When the unfortunate occurrence comes about that I am tired, I would like for you large monkeys to concurrently rub my head, hold my pacifier in, coo to me in a soothing voice and just generally make sure I'm comfortable until I fall into a deep sleep. This might take an hour and a half. Just deal, OK? If I awake 5 minutes after you leave the room, come back and do it all over again.

6. I barely know you and yet you keep kissing my face and telling me you love me. You also hug me tightly. Really, do we know each other well enough for all that? If you love me so much, why can't you pick me up within a millisecond of when I start crying. You need to work harder.

7. Finally -- and really, this is a small thing -- buy me some socks that fit. I have big feet for my age and those puny things you keep puttin' on my dogs are for two-month-olds. You're embarrassing me.

Signed,
The Eternally Disgruntled Wilder

ps. I'll throw you guys a bone: You're both funny-looking, and that entertains me at least.

A more contemplative moment with the increasingly less bald Wilder. OK blog visitors ... who does he look like? (We can't figure it out.) 

Having a grand old time in the crib. Life is good when the world revolves around you. 

I know this face doesn't say "lovin' it," but I really do dig my new baby backpack! 

Jerry & Wilder are ready for the great outdoors.Now if we just had somewhere to go hiking ... 

Our blog is now Google's blog

You might be wondering what that little box is above what you're reading right now. To be honest, I'm not even sure how it works, but we joined Google's AdSense program, which means content-appropriate advertisers can now use our site as a place to put a small, tasteful banner ad. And, if our blog visitors click on the ads, we get some minute amount of money.

Thought it was kind of a cool new technology and wanted to see how it worked. It certainly won't and isn't meant to jump us up a tax bracket, so feel absolutely no obligation to click on anything.

Anyway, just thought I'd explain that we're now pimping ourselves out to Google and its advertising partners. Perhaps it'll buy a couple extra diapers each month. : )

(Hello PAMPERS? HUGGIES?? Did you hear that? Our blog is your blog, too — advertise away!)