Sweet Baby No Likey

Our family (on both sides) do not like to produce females. Thus, I have six nephews total-and counting. It’s pretty awesome since I tend to understand boys better than girls. The “let’s play house” scares me-even though that should be an easy fit. Throw me a rubberband gun, some cammo paint and a pit of dirt and I am in my element.

Therefore, I was in heaven when Bicep’s brother and his wife decided to produce another boy bearing the Greiman name last December. And, they named him Sweet Baby Angus (ok, I added the “Sweet Baby”).

But look at this cute mug. Can you blame me for adding the “Sweet Baby” in front of his birth name? I say you cannot.

Angus is a texture guy and he apparently does not like the texture of green beans.

His mommy tried to hide the green beans in other food. He was quite crafty for an almost-one-year-old. Somehow, his sneaky little tongue separated the green beans from the decoy food.

During our picnic, this is the look that Angus decided was “for him”. Not much changed throughout his feeding. I guess these sorts of things start young.

I still can’t get over the texture of tuna due to a disgusting tuna-noddle-casserole incident. I have your back, Sweet Baby Angus. Auntie Rebekah will never force you to eat tuna or green beans. Unless Mommy says so. Then, my hands are tied. You know what they say about Momma Bear and I do not want to be on the loosing side…

Biceps, Football and Family

I handed Biceps the camera during our nephew’s football game. That evening, as I downloaded the one hundred and thirty eight shots that Biceps took, I realized what a mistake I had made.
Never hand a camera to a man that not only loves his nephews, but also loves football.

Biceps documented everything that our nephews did on the field; from their cute little stances to their runs down the field. Biceps shot everything. Everything.
Let me reiterate: one hundred and thirty eight pictures taken during a one hour game.

Nephew #1 makes a quick move to the left, confusing the opponent and the opponent’s buddy.

Uncle and Auntie admire their nephew’s aptitude and dexterity.
The Father, via silent internal monologue that only someone related to him could understand, remarks, “That’s my boy”.

Nephew #4 supports his brothers with a rock and roll sign, economically doubling as a ‘pacy’.

Nephew #2 is encouraged by his mother to play nice and give the other players ‘high fives’. I tell him to go and kick some major butt.
He did and their team ‘won’. Although, we weren’t supposed to be keeping score. Hypothetically, if one was keeping score, they would know that his team won by a lot.
But, I wasn’t keeping score…so who knows.

Trust me, these two knew.
And Biceps knew.
You don’t just run around flashing victory signs to the camera for nothing.