Tricycle Motors

Ah, babies--who doesn't love 'em? They have that sweet little baby scent, they make that cute little baby gurgle, and they look up at you with a big ol' toof-less baby grin and laugh with sheer abandon--the clearest of all indicators, according to DOD, that "they're just a-fillin' their drawers."

(Have you ever changed a diaper? I changed my niece's once. Worst hour of my life. She cried, I cried, and the damn thing ended up being on backwards.)

Anyway, the thing is, as much as I enjoy the idea of a gurgly little sweet-smelling baby, I also enjoy the idea of sex and sleep, and word around the campfire is there's quite a trade-off there. Like, years and years of trade-off.

And I've heard--from men only, I might add--that babies are contagious. It goes like this: woman's friend has baby, woman holds baby, woman humps the nearest man in order to have baby of her own.

That's all fine and well, but it never worked that way for me. The first part has happened plenty of times: I'll hold a baby and breathe in that little baby scent, and think, "Mmmmmm...babaaaaaaaayyyyyyy." Then I'll head out to find someone to hump, and somewhere along the way, usually at my regular stop at the liquor store on my way home, I'll hear somebody's mama shriek, "Goddammit, Leroy! Get your bony ass back over here and quit cryin' before I give you something to cry about!" And just like that, the baby spell is broken.

So. While I'm not sure about babies, I am sure about one set of parents: my friend Evan and his lovely wife Sarah. They're about to be parents to a little boy, and their baby shower was this past weekend.

I made my standard baby blankets:

And these little bunnies:

Out of Evan's old shirts:

Much love to Evan, Sarah, and your little baby bundle!

Oh. And. For all you boys:

Focus on your goals. Just don't get caught focusing.

Shameless, I know.