Cute. And Not.

Awwww......

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

I may just be the meanest mom in the world, putting that picture out there for the world to see, but day-um, that is a bad picture of a cute baby. Holy crap. She looks like some kind of chub monster zombie type person who just ate a lasagna made out of human remains. See, there's someone's brain matter hanging out in her hair up there. And smeared in her hair above her left ear? That would be someone's spleen goo.

Here's another cute one to help cleanse your brain palette of the one you just saw.

In other news, Tate is on the mend. This means that he's tired, crabby, and capable of going from chill to Oh-My-God-He's-Possessed-By-Some-Kind-Of-Demonic-Being in the span of 4.3 seconds. We've had some doozies. They're usually followed by him passing out on the couch or up in his room. It takes a lot out of you, screaming and kicking like someone's trying to remove your eye with a spork. Anything can set him off. He turned into some kind of nightmarish incubus at Wal-Mart yesterday because I asked him to stop yanking on my hair. I know, right? I'm such a bitch.

We made a quick exit from Wally World and when we got to the car, Eric spied a bike lock in Tate's sweaty little paw. The child had officially began his life of crime. He plundered a bike lock.

Really? A bike lock? We sat Tate down and had a stern talk with him.

Eric: "Tate, if you're gonna steal stuff....you gotta at least make it something good."

Me: "Yeah, I could use a diamond necklace. Hell, I'd settle for a new package of socks or a nice casserole dish (see my entry about my girls weekend last month) or something. I don't freaking need a bike lock!"

Tate: "I stole?"

Eric returned the bike lock to Marv, the 104-year-old man who stands guard at the front door (and apparently doesn't do a very good job of it), and we slunk out of the parking lot.

I'll let you know what he moves on to swiping next. Mother's Day is coming up next month.