Halfway to Eighteen!?

This Friday, my firstborn child turns 9.  Here is what I looked like during the first week of October 2001.

Bare feet and a towel on my head.  Yep.  If I only knew that it was the last shower I’d get for six years.  I’m kidding.

I had spent the month of September watching television.  Mostly various Discovery network channels, plus lots of this:

Brian put his foot down on the name “Fox”, however.  My obsession with this show stopped shortly after Gannon was born.  (I wonder if this is why I heard this snippet of conversation just now as I was posting this… Gan: “And then an alien comes down and abducts the cow.”  Acadia: “Ducks?  What can a duck do to a cow?”)

We didn’t really know what we were in for with having a child.  The only experience we had together in the caretaking department, besides having a tadpole/frog, was with our cat.  Scully (don’t blame me; she came named!).

Isn’t she so cute?  She was the perfect child: ate without a fuss, never whined, loved to leave us alone.  She did have a habit of drinking out of the toilet, though.

I could only hope our child would be satisfied with the more standard beverages provided by us.

Turns out he pretty much was.

Gannon is really still this big.  He only looks gargantuan, lanky, and capable of anything in the world.  It’s a deception.

He’s not really walking up a tree.