This is my beau-hunk. This is my petit homme. It’s the day after Halloweener can’t you tell? Orange sheets, black T-shirt, a few gray hairs sprouting in Pierre from all the fright. And then there’s that spatula to explain.

Tel père tel fils
Tel père tel fils

 
Max & his little spatula are 2-gether 4-ever. They haven’t left eachother’s company in a good 2 months. He sleeps with it, he eats w/ it, he takes it on walks. While visiting, my mom voiced her concern that he may trip and bludgeon himself on it. I earnestly replied, “Me too, but I’m not taking it. If you want to take it from him be my guest - just agree to buy everyone hearing aids & replace all the glass in our windows before you do.”

Max and his lovey the spatula. We tried once, to take it and the earth trembled. The shrill of his baby-soprano backed by a quaking uvula. His eyes, nose, and mouth disappearing into a crumpling face: a real massacre of all good aural faculties…

That’s Max when you pry his septor from those little baby hands.
Happy post-Halloween! Alka-seltzer anyone?

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