Drool.

He's a drooler. He spits up nearly one third of what he eats. He stores up great caches in his bowels and then blows out his diapers and standers-by. We use a hairdryer to warm his bum after a change, and he urinates whimsically into the open air. Clothing has become a ridiculous social convention. We keep spit rags holstered at our sides for an easy draw. 'Freedom of fluids' is the alliterative mantra of the day.

Archer finally gets a blog. Whew.

After three fitful nights of sleep (Archer has gone from being a sleep-through-the-nighter to a wake-every-hourer), I've concluded that a blog is in order because a.) it is something I can control, b.) it allows me to feel productive, and c.) it offers photographic fare that is readily available for ravenous family members to feast upon.