Yesterday Griffin had his first baby modelling gig - a Photo shoot for The Bay. You'll be able to see his cute little mug in a Bay flyer, coming out the first week of April or so. In case you miss it, you can be sure that we'll find it and post it here, so fear not! My Mommy instinct was to bust out the camera and take pictures too, but I didn't think that would be looked upon as "cool" in the shi-shi modelling studio.
Griffin wasn't quite sure what to make of the shoot at first. We arrived and they handed us a little outfit - a cute little summer one piece tank top and short number, with a little hat to go with it. He looked a little freaked out when I plunked him down on the set in his beach garb, but once the camera came out and the pretty girls all started to smile and coo at him in an attempt to get him to smile, he turned on the charm and was a full on hit!
I realize that we're treading on thin ice here making our child a potential slave to the bright lights and big fame. He may start to like it too much, and get some crazy ideas for his future. Maybe we should go hang out in law offices and hospitals instead.
In other news, I seem to be getting old.
You've all seen it happen, mostly in evening sitcoms and feature length comedies where the old man bends over to pick something up and then can't get up again. Well, a variation of that same affliction seems to have struck me.
I grabbed Griffin last night to put him up on my shoulders, and something made a sickening pop sound, which I'm sure was much louder in my brain that it was to the outside ear, and I instantly knew that I was going to regret the move for the remainder of the evening. In fact, I am still regretting it today. Not A535, beer, robaxacet or a combination of all 3 did anything to help me last night. I'm sweating it out until 12:30 when I can go to the crackterpractor, and not picking up my child unless he's under attack by the dog. Or zombies. Hey, it could happen.
This incident occurred while Steve and I were standing in our kitchen enjoying a neighbourly drink with Doug, who I call our back door neighbour. He actually lives 2 houses down, but the only place you can see his house is from our back door as it's set about 1200 feet back off the road. I need to come up with a good nickname for him, because although catchy, "Back Door Doug" may not go over so well should our neighbours ever discover this blog. Doug had just cleared our driveway for us (we're trying to spread the favour asking nice and thin so that not one of our neighbours gets sick of us) and we were enjoying some friendly chat around the kitchen counter. Its awfully nice finally getting to know the neighbours, especially the ones with tractors!