Imagine...

...there are dragons everywhere you look. Behind every sofa. Under every coffee table. The dining room is a virtual land mine of ferocious, fire-breathing dragons ready to devour you. It is up to you--and you alone--to slash them to bits. Or else. First, you must dress up in your fanciest warrior uniform, face mysteriously shrouded by helmet brim and waist cinched by magic belt. You must brandish your dragon-slaying sword with honor and pride. You may employ strange and graceful karate-like moves when necessary. And then, once you have successfully slain the wicked beast that haunts your living room by Monday morning light, you will dutifully sprinkle magic dust upon his fallen head, thereby transforming him into--yes, that's right--a raccoon. Or maybe a spider. Then and only then can you raise your sword in victory.

Snaggletooth

Bottom left tooth = through the skin! Now he seems like an eight month old. I love how he curls his lower lip down to the side, exploring and exposing his new weapon like a pre-teen shows off braces.

The Sky is Crying

One rainy day last week.

Picture Day at School (or Elton John Halloween costume party?)

Between the Lines

Cass: Mom, I can't color between the lines! I can't do this!

M: It's OK... you don't have to stay between the lines. It doesn't have to be perfect.

C: Yes it does. I want to be perfect!

M: Oh, you don't want to be perfect. That's not interesting. No one is perfect.

C: You are.

M: No, I'm not perfect.

C: Yes you are.

M: No, no one is perfect.

C: Are dinosaurs perfect?

M: Nope.

C: Is Superman?

M: Not even Superman is perfect.

C: Well, sometimes you're perfect.

M: You're right. Sometimes I am.