Walkin', talkin' cutie.

Every once in a while Arthur ends up with a cute outfit on. We usually remark to ourselves how cute he is and then we hear him repeat: "coot. coot. coot!"






We love our little cootie.

Another home movie

Video: papa spins with Arthur. Arthur gets pretty dizzy. Arthur expresses joy. Arthur asks for more.

Home Video.

Here is a home video we have only posted to Facebook ... until now. It's sort-of a time-lapse video afternoon with Arthur.


Music: "Letter From a Concerned Follower" by Pedro the Lion

Arthur Turns 1 (September 12, 2009)

For Arthur's 1st Birthday, we went to a Twins game, looked at the animals at Cabela's (not pictured), and then to top off a great day, Super-Mom ran Arthur through the prairie! Cake will come later.

Banning State Park

We spent last weekend at Banning State Park. We had campfires, whittled sticks, went on many walks, made animal noises, watched the rapids on the Kettle River, and napped.
In this photo, Arthur enjoys a fine pear for breakfast Sunday morning with his cold un-socked hand.

Arthur Goes to Duluth!

Arthur got to hang out at Lake Superior in Duluth a couple of weekends ago. He'd been there before, but never when the weather was right for eating rocks! He loved being there in the (relatively) warm weather. He could have sat there all day chewing on beach rocks (no, not the little chokers), but his mom and dad had other plans. It turned out to be a fine weekend trip!

"My wife's in labor!"

I had always wanted to be like the men in the movies who, at some urgent point, get to exclaim to a stranger: "...my wife's going into labor!" For Arthur's birth, I got that chance. I wish it had been a cop in his squad car, but it's hard for me to get pulled over on my bicycle.
After that initial adrenaline-jolting phone call with Sally on that fateful morning, I notified my supervisor and quickly tied up all my loose ends at work - ready for a few days off. It had rained that morning, so before slinging my bag and heading out to the bike rack, I had to don my rain gear, barely dry from my commute in just 2 hours previous. Working the bike lock and fastening my front wheel was like playing 'Operation' with sausages for fingers. As soon as I mounted my Bianchi, I knew something was wrong. There was a notable resistance coming from the bike and the back end felt a little 'wobbly'. Sure enough, I had a flat tire. Of all the days! Splashing through downtown's puddles I jogged my bike, holding the saddle as I ran, to the local bike shop a few blocks away. At 11:07am there was no other customer in the store. I was welcomed with
"Hi, how's it goin' today?"
"Well, OK. I have a flat tire...and I'm in a bit of a hurry...my wife's going into labor!"
"Oh boy! Let's get it in this stand-"
He threw it into the stand, clamping it by the seat post as on we chattered. The mechanic was clearly 'frazzled' by this unusual pressure to perform quickly. He shot off a slurry of abbreviated questions - straight to the point:
"How did it go flat? Was it a 'pop' or a slow leak"
I informed him it leaked over the course of 2 hours - the amount of time I'd been at work.
"Are you going to the St. Cloud Hospital?"
I let him know that yes, we were going to go there, but that my wife was at home, which is just over a mile, and I should probably go there first to pick her up.
The mechanic filled my tube with air, gave it about 2 seconds to show any sign of leakage and quickly asked,
"Do you want to try it just like this? Do you think you'll make it?"
I thought so, so I gave him the nod and out my bike came.
Before I knew it I was running red lights in the deserted downtown streets, climbing curbs, and making my usual way through parking lots and alleyways to Broadway, which takes me most of the way home. My whole exchange in the bike shop probably lasted about a minute but I'm sure that mechanic loved that he could tuck that story away in his back pocket for some lull in that evening's conversation with friends. Then again, he still doesn't know if I made it home on that tire or not - maybe he won't be telling anyone.
And that is a little piece of the story of Arthur's birth.