*No babies were harmed by fire in the making of this post.
I went to my brother's house this weekend. I would show you pictures but I still don't have a digital camera at my disposal - he has an incredibly cute son named Nate. Nate takes after his dad in many ways; I can already see the macho welling up in him (and the intelligence to use it well). This is a one year old who will already make a muscleman pose if prompted by Mom and Dad. I love him.
So at one point in the evening I see Nate fixated on a gallon jug of distilled water. I figure he's just going to maul the purple cap (I mean, if I were a one year old that's what I'd do) but he just stands there and stares, like he's trying to understand this new creature at its deepest level. Then, with the intense focus one usually only sees in Olympians, he squats into a perfect lifter's stance, grasps the base of the jug and lets out a wild "Ay-yi-yi!" war cry as he attempts the lift. He was a little disappointed that it was beyond him but comforted himself by gnawing messily on the delicious-looking purple cap.
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