tiger stripes

The boy doesn't sleep alone. He doesn't sleep with us either. No, he spends his nights lovingly snuggled around his favorite "person" in the world. Meet Tyronnius J. Tigre. You can call him Tyrone for short.

You may remember him from his film debut. He eats a lot and Bex stays busy trying to keep him fed. Nobody wants a hungry tiger on their hands.

Yesterday morning I was lucky enough to observe the boy and his tiger in their natural habitat: the bed. Sure, we were gonna be late to preschool but how could I pass up the opportunity to capture the moment? He has a lifetime to be punctual, but I have limited opportunities to photograph a baby snoozing with his bestie, so sorry punctuality, you lose.

it. was. awesome.

So, we're back! It's great to be home and snuggle with the little dude, but the vacay was great. Unfortunately for me, my husband learned one of my dirty little secrets (No, not that kind of secret. Get your mind out of the gutter, people!). I am an 11 year old. Not in the Law Mommy sense, but in the sense of extreme excitement over somewhat unexciting events.

When Ken suggested that we take a trip to Niagara Falls my eyes glazed over and I became obsessed with taking a ride on the Maid of the Mist. Obsessed, I tell you. Gleeful to the point of embarrassment. Of course, since I had reverted to primary school status, I couldn't possibly refer to the Maid of the Mist as such, no, I called it the boat. Poor Ken was subjected to countless proddings and pleading regarding said boat, and since he was patently against riding it himeself, every other sentence on the two hour drive there was: Boat?


BOAT!! Just me though. Ken did not succumb to it's charms or mine.

Could I be more annoying?

Then there was the Corning Museum of Glass. Months ago I decided that we would go to their "Make Your Own Glass" studio and do exactly that. We made ornaments. They are awesome. Or at least I think they will be. We haven't received the finished pieces in the mail just yet, but I'm sure I'll bore you with a photo once they arrive. Anyway, I could barely contain myself from hopping around as I waited my turn. OMG. I'm not 11. I'm 5.

And did I mention the donkey? One of the wineries has a pet donkey named Doobie. I HAD to meet him. Had to. It was as if my day, no, vacation, no... life depended on it. He was pretty cute, if a bit stinky. And it made for an unexpected photo op.

In any event, the secret is out. I am excitable. Perhaps ridiculously so. World's biggest ball of yarn? I am there! Totally hokey touristy activity? Sign me up. Heck, apparently all you have to do is lure me in with the promise of a donkey sighting and I might drive 20 minutes out of my way.

Oh, the shame.