{ his first first day }

No. It's not a typo.

Tuesday was Turtle's official FIRST first day of school. 

Ever.

I just can't believe it.

This morning, dressed in his uniform and wearing his (Buzz Lightyear) backpack, he held aloft his Lightning McQueen lunchbox, ready to head off to his new classroom.

He told us he was "very excited of school."

MacGyver made the drive with me. For support. He gave a little pep talk to Turtle, including such gems as "Listen to Miss K and be a good boy."

Turtle responded: "You can count on me!"

Seriously. Some days, I can't handle the cute.

We arrived early this morning. We had been on vacation and missed the school's first week, and I had some bags of supplies to leave with the teacher.

I plan to shamelessly win her affections with extra crayons and folders. There. Now you know.

Turtle basically escorted us out of the room. 

And you know what? 

I.

Did.

Not. 

Cry.

It could be that I have no soul. But I prefer to think it's that my heart was so full. He was so eager and excited, and ready to start his day. While I was sad for me, I was so happy for him, about to embark on this new adventure.

I didn't cry when we picked him up, either, and caught a glimpse of him, sitting there with his backpack, waiting for Mommy and Daddy.

Miss K said he asked for us a few times, to see when we were going to come back, and during certain seated activities, he wanted to hang out with her, but she said that she can tell he'll fall into the swing of things in no time. 

Also? That he was really cute.

As for Turtle? He said he loved it. They colored and played and sang the ABC Song. 

And they had snack. 

As far as Turtle is concerned, snack is the best thing since the hula hoop. 

Winning.

In his folder? Some worksheet pages for me to painstakingly stash away, over which I will pore in weepy moments of nostalgia.

His first schoolwork ever. :sniff:

We took him out to a celebratory lunch at an establishment of his choosing. 

Is anyone surprised that he picked Chick-Fil-A? No. I'm not either.

Currently, we have him enrolled for Tuesday and Thursday mornings, but if today's enthusiasm continues, we may have to consider upping the number of days.

As for me? Well, it was kind of weird not having Turtle around. Even Molly was a little mopey, which made me sad. I will fall into my own groove in a few weeks, but it's amazing how lonely the absence of a few hours can make me feel.

How do you spend those hours when your little is gone?

And last, but not least, a neat idea for the memory books. My friend K showed me this idea. She plans to take a photo on the first day of every school year, and then add to it a list of her child's current favorites. At graduation, she plans to (if digital photography and My Publisher still exist, Lord willing), assemble a photobook of the years.

Something like this:

Genius idea. Really. Thanks, K!

How are you and your kids doing with the start of the school season? Share the smiles and the tears and everything in between! <3

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{ training tuesday: 8/30 edition }

I got something in my inbox the other day.


My waiver form for the Epcot Food & Wine Half Marathon.

Gulp.


Apparently, I have to sign this form, and turn it in at race orientation in order to get My Official Race Number. Which I don't really want to wear. It's going to distract me. 


And possibly ruin my running ensemble. Which I still have to select. 


Suggestions welcome.


I'm very fashion over function, clearly.


I haven't read the waiver. I haven't even printed it. Because I'm in denial. I can guess what's on it.


Basically, I'm thinking that neither me nor my family can sue or pursue legal action if any of the following occur:


1. I collapse on the race track and get hit by the sweeper bus.
2. I fall down a rabbit hole.
3. I get carried off by Captain Jack Sparrow.


Which all seems pretty fair and reasonable, I guess.


We've got about a month to go. I'm ramping it up this week. I'm going to be coming by some extra hours, which I have vowed to dedicate to training. 


I feel ok about this. Even if Captain Jack does attempt to run off me.


Hopefully, he remembers the rum.


How are you all doing?

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{ swim, swim, swim }

It's official.

Our little fish can swim.

Pretty much.


It's amazing what a few lessons can do.


Here he is. Gliding off the wall to his teacher. Using his "ice cream scooper" arms to make it.

And here he is. Or isn't. Because he's underwater. Holding his breath and kicking like a crazy person.

It's so hard to believe. We are so ridiculously proud of him.

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{ come on, irene }

I pretty much hate hurricane season. (Please note. I am referring to the weather crisis, not the NCAA football team. Although, with the current scandal, I may come to hate that, as well. We shall see).

With that said, Hurricane Irene is spinning her way up the coast, threatening the eastern seaboard with with winds of about 115 MPH, sometimes weakening to a Category 2, sometimes strengthening to a Category 3.

She means business.

And after this week's bizarre earthquake in the same area, she is probably more than unwelcome.

If you are in Irene's predicted path (aka The Cone of Death/Despair/etc), please stay safe. The best thing you can do is be prepared. Here's a great list from the National Hurricane Center to which you can refer. It includes things like water and non-perishables, as well as cash and full gas tanks in case of power shortages. I know it's late in the game, but do your best to stock up on whatever necessities you can get.

I would also advise a bottle or three of wine. To help with the stress. But that's just me.

If your area is selected for evacuation, please go. Your home and belongings are replaceable. You and your loved ones are not. Familiarize yourself with the evacuation routes and if you don't have a plan for a place to stay, find the nearest shelters. If you have pets... There are some kennels who will take animals in weather crises and have the facilities to provide for them. There are also some shelters that will allow your pets to join you, if you "register" in advance. Your local news stations should be able to provide you with all the information you need.

There will be lots of hype leading up to Irene. Some will be greatly exaggerated. Most will not. My advice is to keep an eye on the National Hurricane Center for "official news." Find a local meteorologist that you trust for more personalized updates. And finally, I recommend and endorse Max Mayfield. Even though he is affiliated with Local 10 out of South Florida, he was the Head Meteorologist at the NHC for just about forever, and he plays it straight. Through my hurricane years, I have put a lot of faith in him.

One more thing to keep in mind. If you haven't been in a hurricane before, you may want to really experience it. You know. Take your surfboard out in the incredible waves before the storm really kicks up. Go outside with your camcorder to shoot footage of the neighbor's roof peeling away. Stand in a particularly strong gust in order to see how major the windspeed REALLY is. Take my word for it. You don't need to do this. For one, it's effing dangerous as hell. For two, someone, out there, WILL see you and record you and upload your shenanigans to youtube. And you just don't want that. Really. You don't.

Last, but not least, it's important to maintain a sense of humor about the whole thing. Whenever things get too intense, I always refer back to this classic Dave Barry piece. Granted, it's written about South Florida, but, for the most part, it's relevant everywhere else. Trust me.

All our love and good thoughts to those in Irene's path. Stay safe. We are thinking of you.

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{ going on a trip: how do you leave? how do you return? }

Last week's post got me thinking a little bit more about organization.

Going away gives me a decent excuse to give the house a pretty thorough deep clean.

Depending on the length of our trip, I go through the fridge. I purge leftovers and anything perishable. I clean the sink and empty the dishwasher. I wipe down the shelves and drawers and make sure there are staples for the housesitter.

I do tons of laundry - all the sheets, towels and linens. It's wonderful to come home to a freshly made bed with crisp pillowcases. 

I dust, I mop, I give a once over with the vacuum (ok, MacGyver does a once over). I put away all folded laundry and scrub the bathrooms. 

I like returning to minimal work. Makes homecoming that much more pleasant.

How do you handle your household leading up to and while you're away? Do you leave everything til you return or get as much done as you can in advance?

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{ going on a trip: the accommodations }

Accommodations are a key element of any travel plans.

When I was younger, we discussed hotels as "a place to lay our heads." We stayed at places that were clean and comfortable, but certainly not fancy or luxurious. 


I think the nicest hotel we visited in my younger days was the Swan near Epcot on the Walt Disney World property. It was newly opened, and I'm not sure if we got some kind of introductory rate or if my mom and aunt just wanted to splurge a little. I remember there were pineapples carved on the bedposts and I felt like we were really in the lap of luxury.


When I met MacGyver (and before we had Turtle), hotels became an integral part of the travel experience. While we still wanted to get out and explore the areas we were visiting, we also enjoyed four and five star amenities in comfortable suites with room service and all the frills. Sleeping late in ridiculously comfortable beds was truly part of the fun of getting away. 


And then came Turtle.


We are now reverting back to the mentality of hotels being a place for sleeping. If we can get a night out to ourselves, we splurge a little for something fancy (because sleep, in and of itself, is the luxury) but for family vacations, we are inclined to choose more economical locations. Standard Hampton Inn or Marriott types, preferably with suite options so that Turtle can get some undisturbed sleep in a separate room. If we can get a small kitchenette, that's even better. It cuts down expenses to be able to breakfast in-room and store milk and snacks and even quick lunch options.


We'll still treat ourselves every now and then, but until Turtle gets a little older, I think we'll stick with "homes-away-from-home." 


What kind of hotel do you prefer?

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{ the lunchbox trick }

We've been lucky in the fact that Turtle is not a particularly picky eater.

Not usually.

However, he has his moments.

I'm of the opinion that he will eat when he eats. He's growing just fine, and we have no reason to worry, at all.

That doesn't mean I don't try different methods to encourage him into getting his daily proper nutrition.

Through trial and error, I've learned that he will not eat anything that comes in a shape. No Mickey Mouse pancakes. No dinosaur sandwiches. No banana caterpillars.

It's kind of bizarre. And a little sad for me. My dreams of adorable, bento box lunches pretty much fizzled and died. 

But just because bento boxes are out doesn't mean old-school-style lunchboxes are out.

Turtle picked this out at Old Navy while we were waiting on lines. I couldn't resist. I love the vintage-y metal lunchboxes. I kind of wish it came with one of those awesome thermoses, but for $7, I'm not complaining.


He toted it around with him for a few days (a few days of difficult eating), until an idea struck.


Perhaps, lunch would be more palatable if it was served IN the beloved box.

I am not ashamed to say that we did lunchbox serving, three meals a day for almost a week.

I guess it was the novelty of the idea.

I say, whatever works.

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{ training tuesday: 8/16 edition }

So.

We've got about 45 days to go. If my counting skills are up to par.

Eek.

I mean, EEEK!!!!

I think it's all just become pretty real. 

I'm not sure if I can handle it.

Internet vibes, hugs, good wishes and inspirational platitudes are welcomed. I'm not sure if I'm going to make it.

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{ go fish }

It may come as a huge shock that I've never been fishing.

The closest thing I remember is when my grandfather used to take me to the office complex at the edge of our neighborhood, and we would tie some twine to a long stick and I would dangle that in the water.

It may come as an even more huge shock that I never caught anything that way. And I was ok with that.

I guess I couldn't avoid it forever.

Two weeks ago, Turtle was watching Dino Dan on DVR. The episode happened to feature Uncle Jack and fishing. All of a sudden, Turtle was on a mission.

"Mommy! Let's fish!"

(I think at this age, every sentence gets punctuated with an exclamation point. Life is just that exciting.)

Ummmm. Sure. Fishing. Good times.

We have a canal out back. That has fish. And snakes. And God only knows what else. And while our neighbors have been known to drop lines back there, I was a little afraid. 

Fortunately, some good friends took pity on us. They have some ponds on their nearby property AND they are regulars at the whole fishing thing. They invited us over.

We took the liberty of purchasing Turtle his own fishing pole. A Lightning McQueen one, obviously. And we were all set. Turtle kept telling us "And I'm going to catch the biggest fish you ever seen!" 

Turtle watched intently as D set up the hooks. I hope MacGyver was paying attention to this part, as well. I know I didn't. Oops.

All ready to go!

Waiting for the pro to arrive on the scene to get them started.

They did great. Using bread and bits of hot dogs, Turtle caught about eight or nine fish.

Or maybe he caught one fish eight or nine times. We're not sure.

MacGyver had to give it a try, too.

He didn't really know what to do with the fish one he had them on his hook...

He also informed me that the fish were "icky" after touching one. I can't say I disagree.

After a while, he moved on to more interesting things. Like this rope. Hooray rope!

D gave us some extra hooks and hook-related accessories so that we can take Turtle on our own. He's very excited about that. I'm not sure what we're going to do about unhooking the fish and throwing them back, but I guess these are things I'm going to have to learn. 

Neat.

Oh, and I also found out that the Tall Fishing Tales start early. If you ask Turtle what he caught, he will tell you "A Varracuda!!!" 

Now, I may not have my sea legs, but I'm pretty sure there were no varracudas in that freshwater pond. I could be wrong. But I don't think so.

I can only imagine the tales we'll hear as he gets older.

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{ going on a trip: what kind of traveler are you }

Now that all the snake unpleasantness is over and done with, we can get back to business.

Today, I want to know. What kind of traveler are you?


Do you just toss a change of clothes and a toothbrush into a backpack and go where the road takes you?


Do you pore over travel guides and online reviews, creating color-coordinated itineraries and binders?


I confess, I'm a bit more of the latter.


First, because I really like office supplies. And making lists and binders and notebooks just feeds my addiction.


The real reason is that, unless we are headed to some all-inclusive, closed-off resort, I want to see and do everything there is to see and do. Especially if we're in a brand new area. I just like to capitalize on the opportunity and absorb as much of the local culture, scenery and history as possible.


MacGyver is my polar opposite. He prefers a(n infuriating) method called "Go With The Flow." It works great at tropical hotel resorts where the biggest decisions of the day involve pineapple or mango on your pancakes and daiquiri or colada at the swim up bar. But for other trips, it's a bit difficult.


How do you handle it? Are you up to your ears in packing lists and spreadsheets? Or do you follow MacGyver "flow" method?

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{ why i want to move to iceland & own a machete: the gripping conclusion }

Here we are. 

Friday evening.

We have enjoyed a lovely afternoon. We went to Target for stickers and a children's fishing rod. We had dinner at Mimi's. We came home, hoping for a quiet night.

I was the first one to enter the house. I rounded up Molly and Oscar and brought them outside. I was feeling a little more safe but not entirely, so their potty trips had been closely monitored and chaperoned.

They sniffed around the patio a bit, wagging their tails and whatnot. I breathed in the slightly cooler evening air and surveyed our property.

And froze.

There it was.

Lurking.

Angry.

Fangs dripping.

Eyes threatening.

Head lifted just above the thick grass.

Lounging in the shadow of MY SON'S BACKYARD POOL!!!!

Mother. Effer.

Quietly, I scooted the dogs back inside and gestured wildly for MacGyver through the glass door. 

"Call Tennessee Jack." I said, as quietly as I could so as not to startle the snake, and as loudly as I had to to make sure he heard me.

And then I stood on the patio while he made the call. No more than three feet away from this hostile beast. Risking life and limb for the safety of my family. Feeling chilled to my core, as if I would never be warm again.

It just laid there. Oozing hostility and snake-hate.

TJ arrived, armed with a hoe and the most wicked looking garden rake I have ever seen. He and MacGyver slipped out the door and I slipped in. They had a hushed conversation confirming that it was indeed this Banded Water Snake and that it was up to no good.

I sat with Turtle and turned up the volume of Dino Dan to drown out any sounds from the backyard.

It did not go quietly, from what I am told.

I imagine it went something like this. If Tennessee Jack was played by Roy Scheider. And if the battle went down on a fishing boat off the coast of Amity. But you get the idea.

Yes. I know that's not the right line. But this is a family blog. Let's keep it as clean as we can.


The menfolk "took care of" the situation and cleaned up thoroughly. We will be having someone come in to spread some snake-repelling stuff just to be on the safe side. 


I slept well that night. Well, I would have slept well if a group of friends hadn't persuaded me to get a copy of Room, which I swore I would read slowly over the course of several nights, but who am I kidding? But when I DID finally doze off, I slept well.


I'm going to be honest here. I am trying to be ok with the wildlife. I've accepted the black racers and rat snakes and garter snakes and whatever is out there. They keep to themselves and eat other things I'm pretty sure I wouldn't like lurking around, so we respect each other's space and go about our business.


However, when something comes into my yard and poses a threat to my son or my pugs or my husband or me? Well, that's not ok anymore.


So ends the Great Snake Crisis of August '11. Hopefully, we are able to stay bad-snake-free for many years to come.

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{ why i want to move to iceland & own a machete: part 2 }

We left off yesterday with Bentley at the vet, sporting bloodstains; an aggressive, maimed snake lurking in wait under our air conditioner; and much panic.

Finally, MacGyver returned home, toting one annoyed pug with a big shaved patch on his side, and one bottle of antibiotics. 

Verdict? There were no puncture wounds that they could find. But there was definitely blood. The antibiotics were for "just in case." It's possible there was a Snake vs. Pug scuffle before I saw the standoff.

Here's a reenactment of what we think may have happened.

Bentley was probably sunbathing, as he loves to do. Seriously. That dog would stay outside all. day. long. if we let him.

Perhaps his spidey-senses tingled. Perhaps he heard something. Perhaps he just felt the presence of evil.

Whatever it was, I assume the following dialogue took place.

Bentley's pretty friendly. It's probably why he didn't notice the red eyes and fangs of death.

Yeah. This snake is all about quoting movie lines. He's just asking for a whoopin'. And at this point, we think Bentley had had enough.

I'm sure it was horrible. A brawl of epic proportions. During which Bentley probably got nicked or scraped. Resulting in some blood.

Bentley and Oscar were happy to re-enact the scene later during one of their wrestling matches, so you can get a better idea of how it must have gone down.

Bentley played Bentley and Oscar played the snake.

It's ok. They love each other. See? Kiss kiss.

Anyhoo. The end result was that Bentley was a-ok. 

And we got final confirmation from Facebook. From a Professional Snake Handler (who knew THAT was a career option?).

 

So we were dealing with an Ironic Twist of Nature. A pissed off reptile with lots of swagger. Probably a little like Joe Pesci.

By Friday morning, MacGyver was convinced that it was gone. I was in direct opposition to his belief. Snakes just don't go away. Especially not annoying Joe-Pesci-esque snakes.

Find out what happens tomorrow in our exciting conclusion!

** no pugs or snakes were harmed in the creation of these photographs and illustrations.

*** pug fighting seems to be a bi-monthly occurrence in our home which involves a lot of slobbering, ewok noises and open mouths. no bites are ever sustained and no hard feelings ensue. they drool on each other a bit, and then fall asleep. not my idea of how to spend ten minutes, but whatever.

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{ why i want to move to iceland and own a machete. part 1 }

We had an Incident the other day.

It was an average Thursday. We had a swimming lesson slated for 10am, and I was hoping to rush home, get Turtle to bed for a nap and then zip out to a 1pm hair appointment for a long overdue color and cut.

My plan of attack was all mapped out. Rock and roll, baby.

We were getting ready, when I heard Bentley, barking angrily out back. 

This. Is Bentley.

I'm going to be honest. He's a good dog, but he can be a bit of an a-hole. It's not his fault. He's just not wired right.

And I really, really, really thought that he was being a bit of an a-hole when I heard his barks. Right outside our french doors. 

Molly thought so, too, getting more and more agitated with the situation, so I figured I would send her out with him to work it out. 

I approached the back door. Started to turn the knob.

And screamed. Like a girl.

Because there was Bentley. Pacing the perimeter of our patio table. Barking his fool head off.

About 10" from him?

This.

I'll let you stop screaming like girls, too.

I freaked. That thing was about 18-24" in length. And it was in a standoff with my Bentley. And that is just not ok. Even if he is an a-hole.

So I opened the door a few inches, and I whispered "Bentley, come inside!"

And he looked from me. To the snake. To me. To the snake. He's not really the brightest crayon in the box. 

I sweetened the pot. "Bentley? Do you want a treat? Let's get a treat."

And bless his little food-motivated self, he came a-sprinting.

At which point, MacGyver emerged. And I about burst into tears.

We assessed the situation. 

First, we put Bentley in his crate, so he wouldn't try to slip in and out while MacGyver dealt with the problem. While he was getting a shovel, I grabbed my phone and my good camera and snapped pictures with each through the glass.

The phone pictures were immediately uploaded to Facebook. I am blessed to have many nature-loving friends. Friends who know things about snakes. It's good to understand what we're dealing with. Know thine enemy, and all that.

MacGyver went outside. I tried to distract Turtle, Molly and Oscar from what I hoped would be a bloodbath.

I heard the sounds of a shovel dragging on concrete. A few thumps. Some muted cursing. More dragging.

And MacGyver came inside, bearing bad news. Apparently, our snake had slithered its way under our air conditioning unit, sporting an injured tail.

MacGyver? Fails at snake-killing.

In the meantime, panic was building on Facebook.

Suggestions were pouring in: corn snake, cottonmouth, water moccasin, big snake, scary snake. I started diligently googling images of each suggestion only to find the following. Each kind of snake has so many effing variations that it is virtually impossible to determine what's 3 feet in front of your face.

Not helpful, Snake Identification Guides. Not. Helpful.

With terror building inside me, I left for swimming lessons. I had no choice. While there, MacGyver was busy texting with our next door neighbor, Tennessee Jack (I've talked about him before). Based on my cell phone photo, TJ decided we were dealing with something called a "banded water snake." 

The details are as follows: blah, blah, blah, blah, lots of teeth, blah, blah, blah, will bite, blah blah blah, non-poisonous, blah, blah, aggressive.

That was the signal for me to start shaking again. And to start researching alternative places to live. Like Iceland. Where the scariest thing they have is a pissed off moose. 

Forty minutes later, we returned to the house. I tried to busy myself with getting ready for my hair appointment, and let Bentley out of his crate to take him for a walk out front. As I was putting on his leash, I saw them. What we hadn't seen in all the commotion earlier.

Bloodstains. On his fur. Near his shoulder.

We felt him all over for marks of bites, scratches or swelling, and MacGyver placed a call to the vet. The rational side of me said that this snake was probably not poisonous and that if he HAD been bitten, he certainly would be showing SOME kind of symptoms by this point. The vet tech agreed, but asked us to bring him in so we could make sure we weren't missing anything.

MacGyver set off, while I did what any normal person would do: wrung my hands in despair. And then rallied the troops on Facebook, looking for solutions for this act of aggression against my family!

We were making plans, people. Plans.

MacGyver called to ask me to email a good picture of the snake to the office (See, dear readers? These photographs are really coming in handy). 

I waited, on tenterhooks, for his return.

Join us tomorrow, for Part 2 of the Great Snake Crisis of August '11. 

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{ going on a trip: where in the world }

Welcome back! 

I am so excited about this week's post. 

I've been on the hunt for something for our home. A big, fat, hanging wall map.

I realized it was probably necessary after I saw a Funny Or Die image circulating on Facebook, regarding the New Yorker's view of the United States. Seeing as I was born and raised close enough to New York to "get it" (and also, to think that some of the labels are spot on), I realized that Turtle might need me to bone up on my geography skills if I'm going to be of any use to him in that arena.

(credit: Don Abramson, Funny or Die)

I'd scoured all my favorite shopping and search websites, hitting up Google and Amazon, searching for just the right one.

Unfortunately, I was having a tough time. Mostly because of price. I wanted a map, but not that badly, if you catch my drift.

But on Sunday, as we wandered the aisles of Target, looking for school shorts for a certain Turtle and tongs for the smoker, I happened to meander down a Back-to-School aisle and found...

A big, fat, hanging wall map! For $4.99!

Winner, winner, chicken dinner!

I could choose between the world map and the US map, so I figured we could start with domestic. Although, thinking about it, I have an empty space on the opposite wall and there's no reason we couldn't have a world map for reference... 

But I digress.

I snagged some pretty push pins from Office Supplies and when we finally got home, we installed this bad boy over the couch in the loft/play area.

My plan is several-fold.

It's a great, big colorful way to teach Turtle geography.

It's a great, big colorful way to reinforce MY geography.

I think maps as wall decor are pretty fabulous.

And it's an awesome way to keep track of where we've been, by sticking push pins into cities we've visited. 

Like so.

Method? Meet madness.

I'm not entirely sure if I want to restrict our push pin system to trips we've done as a threesome, or if I should color coordinate, and do MacGyver's lifetime trips, my lifetime trips, trips we've taken as a couple and trips we've taken as a family. It might be neat to be all-inclusive just so that we can talk to Turtle about other places we may have been without him, and he'll have a better frame of reference.

Except Vegas. He can't ask about Vegas.

It's going to be great to discuss with him and it will also be fun to plan more family vacations with a gigantic visual aid as our guide.

Do you use maps to track your trips? To review geography? To decorate? To help clear up your New York/New Jersey point of view? Tell us about it!

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{ football's back, baby }

After several torturous months of negotiations, debate and conversation, the NFL owners and players have reached a mutually beneficial agreement and we have ourselves a professional football season!

Oh, happy day!

Sorry, baseball.

We celebrated by hitting the first Jaguars practice! 

It felt so right.

Turtle had a chance to meet some cheerleaders.

And then he got his face painted. 

He wanted a dinosaur, so I asked the artist if he could make it a little more "Jaguar-y." He complied by coloring this brachiosaurus teal and black, with a #32. We call it the Jonesdrewosaurus. Very awesome.

Our seats for practice were just perfect.

And we were lucky to be in the shade - the heat was brutal. I don't know how the players do it. I really don't.

We also learned that Turtle is quite the ham, a quality he gets entirely from his Daddy. One of the Jags street team swung by our bleachers, handing out teal and gold beads and free t-shirts. He offered some necklaces to Turtle and said he could have them if Turtle would do a dance. Turtle obliged. A few minutes later, when the fans were begging for t-shirts, the staff member said he would do so. IF Turtle would dance out on the field.

And. He. Did.

It was adorable. 

Afterwards, he led Turtle out to the sideline to get a closer look at the players. I was so proud. 

Turtle got a t-shirt for his efforts. Because everyone needs a Bubba Burger promotional tee.

Such a happy boy, having such a great night in his new official jersey. (Hopefully, we get a few years out of it.)

This picture cracked me up. I think he was running, but a friend of mine said it looked like he was doing "the Carlton" from Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Watch the video and tell me if she's wrong.

I really love this little guy. And we are all excited about the new season. It's going to be a competitive season, that's for sure.

Let's go Jags! And Dolphins! And here's to a great year!

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