Drumroll, please...

Snuffle Pig had his 4-month checkup today. And he weighed...

18 pounds, 15 ounces!!!

(He's had two lunches since then, so I'm sure he's over 19 pounds as of this writing.) This, friends, puts him over the top of the growth chart. He was 25.5 inches long, putting him in the 75th percentile for length. We have a fatty on our hands. A fatty who will outgrow his infant car seat, his swing, his bouncy seat, and every other contraption designed for these things you humans refer to as "babies" long before they are intended to be outgrown. He is currently outgrowing 6-9 month size clothing. He is fitting nicely in some 12 month size items, provided I cuff up the pant legs for his stumpy lower half. This is going to dry up my sources for hand-me-downs right quick if he continues at this pace and gets larger than my friends' two-year-olds, which would really chap my hide. Crapper. Let's have a look, complete with thigh-cam, shall we?

The funny thing is, just as Snuffy attempts to outgrow all baby equipment, Phook rediscovers that it fits her just fine:


He's a cute one though, huh?

How do you like me now, ladies?

Oh, yes, and Halloween happened. Phook loved it. Loved. It. "More suckers, please!" The other day, we were rolling around with the stroller, and she was apparently reminiscing about trick-or-treating, because she was saying combinations of the words "bee," "suckers," "thank you," "bye," "see ya," etc. while waving her arms around at all the houses where we had trick-or-treated. At one point, she screamed, "See ya, suckers!!!" That made me pee a little bit. Most things do, but still. Unfortunately, Big K had the camera, and this was the best shot he got of our bee:

Luckily I snapped a decent one of pumpkin boy (He stayed in costume for about 20 minutes. That was $15.99 spent wisely.):


And now I'd like to tell you that my husband, the guy who has spent about 6 months not doing the 20 minute job that is installing shades in Phook's room, came home from work early the other day to tunnel under the earth for 4 hours. The guy who says regularly, "I just don't like dirt." Why, you ask? Well, he wanted to bury a cable, which he encased in some kind of plumbing pipes, underground. How far, you ask? A mere hundred feet or so...from our basement all the way out to the garage, where he has set up a man cave for gaming and computer fixing, and where he specifically wanted wired internet, for reasons I could attempt to explain, but probably not without making myself sound more dumb than usual. Here he and Phook are DIGGING UNDER THE SIDEWALK:


I am just going to casually restate that this man does not have time to hang two window shades over the course of half of a year, but has time to do major excavation projects so as to enhance his gaming pursuits. I'm not bitter, really, I'm not. [Cough.] Phook had fun, at the very least:

In other news, Snuffy is in the grabbing and gnawing on things phase. I truly feel sorry for things. I fear his impending mobility, for it means I have to go through Phook's personal toy store and remove all chokeables from her disturbingly huge stockpile of amusements. I weep for that day already. And it might not be too far off. Last night I put him down on one end of the crib, and when I went in to feed him at 4:30 this morning, he had navigated all the way down to the other end. Which freaked me the fug out. I'm hoping he stays too fat to learn how to crawl. (Ah, how I remember being on the edge of my seat in anticipation of all of Phook's physical developments, and just one child later, I'm praying for a kid who is actually physically limited by obesity. How quickly I have fallen.) Anyhow, here's the maniac at work:

But, you know, this squeaky crinkly toy phase is Uncle Growler's favorite:

So that's what's happening here. If you have a 4-year-old boy, box up his clothes and send them to me, will ya? I'm gonna need them for summer...