I actually went back and forth for awhile about whether or not to post these pictures. There is embarrassment for both Max (someday, when he is old enough to feel shame) and myself (right now, since I am already old enough to feel shame), but the humor of the whole thing outweighs the humiliation, and so here we are. I compromised by posting on a Friday night, since Ian tells me that our blog is least frequently read on the weekends.
Max is growing into his personality more and more, and is developing his own very firm opinions about what is funny, what does and does not taste good, what comprises a fun activity, etc. He has apparently decided to make his own fashion decisions, as well, and has predictably developed an unusual and cutting-edge sense of style. Today he asked for a glass of milk (which means that he held up an empty sippy cup, said "meek? meek!" and then yelled until I took the cup and began filling it.). While I was getting his drink, Max rooted through a pile of freshly washed laundry, selected a pair of my pink maternity underwear with great and thoughtful deliberation, and placed them around his neck like a scarf.
Thus draped, Max climbed up on the piano bench so that he could check out the effect of his new accessory in his reflection in the mirror.
Apparently, his new look met with his approval, because he smiled, patted his chest, and said, "Me! Me! Me!" over and over. (On an unrelated note, he has started referring to himself as 'me' lately, which is a developmental leap that is supposed to come much later. He is a genius, which at least means that he will be able to write off his questionable fashion choices as charmingly eccentric and above the heads of the rest of us.)