Dalton And The Bean Bag.

No, this isn't the story of an incredibly cute little boy (although you have to admit I am) and some magic beans. It's the completely true and zany Adventures In Babysitting At Aunt Yaya's house. (That would be Aunt Sarah for you Urban Expression neophytes).  

Ok...so...a tree fell at my Uncle Bob's house (and no I don't know if it made a sound or not) and my Dad had to go and help him clean it up.  I really wanted to go along and help...you know how us guys are with power tools.  I'd grunt but they always change my diaper when I do that.  Anyway....my sister and I went over to Aunt Yaya's house for a bit because our dear sainted Mother was helping down at the church Thrift Shop.  Aunt Yaya's house is kinda cool. All sorts of metal things and lights going off all the time.  I think she calls them portraits. Not sure. I'll have to ask her someday.  This time though, Savanna didn't want to sit in the portrait and hold me.  So Aunt Yaya got this thing out called a bean bag. It was awesome. I seriously need to get one of these for my crib.  I almost hated for the lights to stop flashing it was so comfortable.  Aunt Yaya..being the cool Aunt that she is, decided that as long as I liked that bean bag...I could sit in it.  How cool is that? She put it near the window so I could look out and see the birds.  Well...look out as much as a 2 foot tall incredibly cute kid can while sitting in a bean bag. 

So I spent the afternoon chilling on the bean bag, looking out the window....

Playing the make faces game with Aunt Yaya......

having a long talk......

about some serious stuff.......

serious, serious really make you think kind of stuff....

the kind of stuff that will cross your eyes and make you tired kind of stuff....

until I had no choice and had to pretend to sleep to end the conversation.

Seriously Yaya...I love you but I have no idea what the heck a New York Yankee is so how do I know if I want to play with them or not.  You should talk to Daddy. He keeps yammering on about me playing with something called a 49er.