It's Just A Virus, Or, Re-Imagine Uses for Your Broom.

Plasma.

Word of next generation iGadgets.

Syria's unrest.

David P.

All things that cannot be contained.

Let me back up for a moment, before I get ahead of myself and start posting pictures of our little boy holding comically large cleaning implements.

A plague fell on the House of Pagan this weekend--striking Friday and lasting through the end of Sunday.  It was foul business.  And sneaky.  Hitting poor David first, on Wednesday, then me, then Jon.  The mind really does start to reel once the symptoms start manifesting more aggressively.  Is this Cholera?  I place part of the blame on the med school experience, and part of the blame on myself for watching too much House.

Don't worry, it wasn't lupus.

In any event, we all survived and had a very mellow weekend.  This was helpful.

Call it irresponsible parenting, but when everyone is sick and can barely summon the energy to wear jeans and sit upright, we watch movies.  And keep Kleenex nearby.

Eventually, we felt well enough to venture out of the house, which our little boy loved, and in doing so, it was like God flipped some kind of developmental switch.  We have gone from zero to multiple baby gates in a mere matter of days.

This is David P.  He is a good little boy, and always very curious.

Getting ready to climb into the pantry.  David's homage to The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Somewhere, in the back of that cupboard, is a family of beavers waiting to befriend him.

Unimpressed with the baby gates.  Attempting to break out with the help of his new favorite toy.

But all of this exploring, if left unchecked, can be hazardous:  

First owie--the result of a header he took in the driveway as I was walking up to greet him from the mailbox.  Too much momentum.