Heather Armstrong is my Hero

We found the... fruit snacks at the store, although using the word fruit here is a bit generous. I would have gone with polycarbonate snack, but I guess that would require more ink and less lying. Whatever. We bought two boxes...

Dooce.

Delicious.

My son points to a photo in a wildlife calendar.

"Muffins!" he says, and smiles proudly.

"Oh, no, honey, you say 'puffin'. P - p - p puffin! Those are puffins."

"No! Is muffins,' he says adamantly, and then looks up at us with a little twinkle in his eye. He's making a joke.

"Puffins," daddy tries again.

"NO!! IS! Muffins!!" He stamps his foot, and then looks up sideways, smirking.

Our little Ogden Nash.

Baby, if you're a sickness, I don' need no cure.

Husband (squinting at the one and only print that our accursed printer has been able to eeek out): We can't send this.

Me: Why?

Husband: People will think he has something.

Me: ?

Husband: With that hat. Covering all his hair. People will think he has cancer or something.

Me: Well, yeah! Something! Something like f-ing awesome taste in hats!!