The Chicago Marathon is today and I promised to go and cheer wildly for a policeman friend of mine who is running it for the 3rd or 4th time. Unfortunately, his wife and I lost our standard tour guide who used to map out all the points and El stops for us to take in order to witness our man in blue racing by (based on his average pace). Apparently, the tour guide couldn't get away from his wife and 5 kids to show our dumb a$$es where to go. So instead, we'll dash around blindly trying to locate our runner and hopefully find him at some point before dinner.
Which leaves me only enough time to offer up a blog showing that I didn't lie about the horribly mismatched pajamas we wear nightly at Casa de la Inept. I was able to get my hands on one of Jack's drawings to prove another one of my maternal failings:
I know I'm biased, but I really think the kid has an eye. By the way, if anyone tries to teach Jack how to draw hands more accurately, they will be shut down. I LOVE the hands. They're like happy little pinwheels. I also get upset when anyone tries to correct Joey when he uses the word "drawlar" (a combination of "draw" and "color"). It's one of the last cute malaprops left in our house and I will not hurry along its demise.
Oh, and if you're wondering about the picture, that's not a doll he's holding. It's supposed to be Joe in his Father's Day hammock. Joe has never actually used his hammock, but I suppose there's nothing wrong with taking a little creative license.
For the record, here are Jack's real pajamas: