Julia: Am I sweeter than Weston?
Claire: You, Weston, and Conrad are the absolute sweetest.
Julia: But I want to be sweeter than I already am.
Claire: How can you be sweeter than you already are?
Julia: By eating cupcakes.
Rich…ard and Beautiful
When someone heard the name of our blog, she was apparently shocked at my arrogance. In the future, if someone gets the wrong idea, I think I’ll give my best impersonation of Aldolpho from The Drowsy Chaperone and say, “Whhhaaaaat? You do not agreeeeee?”
Along those lines…because the site is Rich and Beautiful and Google ads are based on content, apparently you, readers of this blog, are interested in finding a rich husband, meeting rich people, ordering a Russian bride (I do like calling Claire my Russian bride), and chic doggy clothes (from the “Doggy Duty” post, I’m guessing).
[youtube Hxx2KcPWWZg]
A random YouTube video making fun of Microsoft.
Survival of the Feistiest
Maybe it’s because the third child has to fight for everything, but there is nothing passive about Conrad. We are extremely careful when feeding him with a fork due to his tendency to lunge forward like a snapping turtle in order to catch his pea mush unawares.
After watching some videos on YouTube, we noticed other similarities: Conrad moves around with his mouth wide open waiting to be fed just like this alligator snapping turtle.
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I really, really, really want one of these.
In other news, Conrad is starting to walk from point A to point B, assuming point A and point B are sitting pretty close together.
Take me out to the ball game
Last summer, 2006 BC (Before Conrad), we decided to take Weston and Julia to a Mets game. As is part of the ritual, we got a couple hot dogs and drinks. Because Weston’s reflexes were a little unpredictable, we should have expected something like this would happen. He picks up the hot dog which is covered in ketchup and hurls it. He scores a bullseye on the kid in front of us, and, just like in the movies, it sticks to the back of his shirt and slowly slides down it. To make things worse, the poor kid was there with his buddy and both of them were decked out in Mets gear. It wouldn’t surprise me if the jersey was autographed.
What do you do?
We both apologized of course and, as only a mother could do, Claire offers the poor kid a wet wipe. He declined. We tried to look the other way and pretend the whole thing never happened. When we finally gathered the courage to look forward again, we noticed that the two wise fellows had casually gotten up and moved to the empty seats at the far end of the row.
I bet they were still within range — Weston has a good arm.
Bloody Cool
Just when I was wondering what I was going to write about this week, cousin Michael comes over wanting to show us a “bloody cool” something or other he was worried wouldn’t last long enough to wait. Upon seeing his body art, I had to agree…it’s pretty bloody cool.
bloody cool: [bluhd-ee kool] -adjective
something with a skull, a snake, at least one guitar, and flames.
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