Maniac Mansion of Mud

Power, more power.

Sometimes I worry that Zach is going to grow up to be the next Christopher Walken character or some other Bond villain. During my long stretches on the road, I envision my parting words to him as he goes out into the world: "I had better not ever see you on America's Most Wanted." This is such a romantic vision of your child running off to join the circus or a corporation. Is there a difference?

No, I figure Zach will be the kind of villain living under the radar... or as a family man. Anything can happen. As for now, Zach must settle with being the charming little butt he is. These are just future concerns, and let's live in the present, shall we?


It was Nude-Mud-Day this afternoon, which followed from the Nude-Mud-Evening yesterday. These are precious moments in the life of a young boy, given society's frowning upon Nude-Mud-Days for ages much past 6 or 7. Certainly, society must frown upon defecating in the middle of an open field as Zach managed to do yesterday. He then returned to the porch walking on all fours like a dog and demanded wipe-down service.

How precious.


Before breakfast this morning, he tried sneaking outside.

"Where are you going?" I asked.
"To find my poop," he declared.
"I don't think so."

Frankly, this isn't the first time, and it needs to be the last. No more bush-bathroom adventures unless we're camping. It may be horse country, but still, there needs to be some standard. We're not dirt people.

The photographer is hoping there are no other critters in that thar hole.