Happy Birthday, Sterling.

Nothing's changed on the adoption front, but I thought everyone would enjoy this photo of the little man. He turns three today. We were originally hoping to have him home before this day hit--we wanted to celebrate with him--but now we're just going to have to change that. Perhaps we should start hoping he's home before he turns four.

The Wushy-Cushy.

Noah, my five-year-old son, recently traded in a bunch of Incredible Pizza tickets for an item so hilariously awesome in its sheer guy-ness that I had to share.

He calls it the "Wushy-Cushy."

The Wushy-Cushy is a balloon-like device, often made of rubber, but in Noah's case, made of green plastic cloth-like material. He demonstrated it for me immediately by blowing into it to inflate it about halfway. He then, right there in the middle of Incredible Pizza, placed it on the floor and proceeded to sit on it.

It looked kind of like this:

Of course, it was hilarious. Flatulence noises always are.

But what struck me especially dumb was Noah's innate desire to simulate the sound of passing gas. I have not instructed him in this. Neither has Michelle. This incident has simply placed in me a deep-rooted knowledge that the males of our species are genetically predisposed to laughing hysterically at fart noises, which is perhaps why such sounds pervade so many of the so-called comedies on display at the nearest cinema.

Of course, Noah laughs because he's only five.

These Are Cantaloupes.

So, The Bean is roughly the size of a cantaloupe, and is starting to develop its teeth, even though the teeth won't push through the gums until after it's born.

Also, The Bean is still an "it," as we had an ultrasound and couldn't get a clear image either way as to its gender. The Bean is not very cooperative in that respect; it adores mystery and abhors technology. It's very cantankerous even when the doctor and/or nurses attempt that monthly ritual of finding the fetal heart tones.

However, we're attempting to find an excuse to have another ultrasound done in a few weeks so we can know. Michelle and I personally don't care about finding out whether The Bean is a brother or sister for the other kiddos, but they care immensely. Mainly, they're all hoping for a boy, and if it's a girl, we want to give them plenty of time to get used to the idea before it's born. I'd hate for the first thing they say about their new baby sister to be "Aw, man!"

So, until then, slice up some cantaloupe, the perfect summer treat!

Out To Book.

Been awhile since I've posted, and it's going to be a little longer. I'm working on yet another book, which I'm supposed to finish up by tomorrow. Hopefully I'll be back on soon to post about the following: the gender of The Bean, how I made $150 at the Michael W. Smith concert, and my son's new fascination with the "wushy-cushy."

Until then!