Tuesday, February 1, 2011


Some of my parents’ favorite stories to tell about my childhood revolve around how *ahem* “husky” I was. My nickname as an infant was Michelin Man, and it was very well deserved because I looked like this…

My expression on the right seems to say, "I'll have the filet, medium rare", does ot not?

There’s the story about putting me, the big fish, in the front row of the hospital nursery, the one about eating carrots before I had teeth, the one about the salesman asking if Texas A&M had starting recruiting me yet, the one about rolling over my skinny friend Charles and hurting him, and the one about Mom finding my fifth neck – unwashed and crusty – at four months of age.

Thankfully Marryn has not been taking after her mother’s physique so far. She’s a tall and slender gal – in the 91st percentile for her height and 5th for her weight. At four months, she is wearing 6-9 month old clothing to accommodate her length, has long fingers, toes, and neck. (Ok, I’m realizing this description makes her sound like E.T. She’s beautiful, dang it! See...)
Be that as it may, irony still has a way of creeping in. Yesterday, Ben was “flying” Marryn over our heads on the couch.

She was impressing us with her funny expressions and sweet coos. We were transfixed on the face of our little charmer, when I saw it.

A THIRD neck, unwashed, crusty and red. O, I am fortune’s fool!

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