I am still sick. I am going to do what the sick do when the sick blog. The sick do photo montages. Because the sick are lazy. Say it with me - LAAAY-ZEEEE. My brain's not working right, so funny's taking a nap. I'm on photo autopilot.
Last night my Little Guy graduated from Webelos I to Webelos II. Next January he will graduate to Boy Scouts. Rather than bore you with pictures of the ceremony (mostly because I used the wrong ISO setting and the pictures are all grainy and fuzzy), I choose to delight (that's rather a strong use of the word in this context - just go with it) you with faces at the cake and punch reception following the ceremony. The faces are familiar at this point. The angles - I told you I'm sick, right?
But first, my Little Guy in his uniform, all handsome and proud. And remembering to stand like a man instead of a slouch.
Isn't he handsome? He's worked so hard all year to earn badges and pins and was proud of himself. He's a good kid.
An okay kid. Whichever you prefer.
Here's the man who was giving him weird finger ears. Say hello to my Hunny. I kinda like his old man glasses. People used to call him Al Borland from Tool Time. Now he gets into the whole professor look.
And Maybelline, as we're leaving the house, asks Little Guy, "So do any of your little scout friends have big brothers?" Rein it in there, girl. Soon I'll be padlocking her doors and windows.
Check out Oatmeal Head, recently having discovered the opposite gender himself. And I thought Maybelline had it bad. If one more giggly girl calls my house looking for him at ten o'clock at night ... so help me ...
Not to be outdone for weird angles, Little Guy completes our set. Collect them all!
I can't leave you without my favorite photo of the evening. Okay, second favorite. The one of the Hunny is my favorite. And I'm trying to figure out Photoshop well enough to get rid of the minivan and other background junk.
To all of you out there who have caught my cold, I'm truly sorry. Get better. To the four or five year old who gave it to me, there's a bench with your name on it, kid, and I'll be right behind ya, pushing.
Until I write again ...