Hair, beautiful hair!

She asks me why…I’m just a hairy guy
I’m hairy noon and night; Hair that’s a fright.
I’m hairy high and low,
Don’t ask me why; don’t know!

Wig, the musical

Wig, the musical

Let it fly in the breeze and get caught in the trees
Give a home to the fleas in my hair
A home for fleas, a hive for bees
A nest for birds, there ain’t no words
For the beauty, the splendor, the wonder of my

Long as God can grow it.

Long as God can grow it.

HAIR!!

Now get this itchy wig off my head!

Wig time is over, people.

The Doctor is in.

The patient presents with acute cuteness and precocious adorableness. The specimen appears to be a healthy young male, human as far as can be told, and very much in the prime of life.

By God, Man! Is he not huggable!?

The Doctor will see you now.

The Doctor will see you now.

Stats:

9 months old.

2′ 5.5″ (86%)

23 lb 5 oz (87%)

17.99 ” Head Circumference (62%)

(10^100)^(10^100) On the Finnegan Scale of Awesome (One Googleplex, as high as the scale currently measures).

Zoot Alores!

Zoot Alores!

Dear Lord! I may have to dramatically tear these fake glasses from my head for emphasis!

Red Orb of Power

As part of my rigorous study of the nature of existence I have lately been engrossed in the fascinating field of topology, specifically the topology of spheres.

Preliminary approach

Preliminary approach

My methodology is both simple and exacting, as I apply force of varying levels and examine the response from the object under study.

Adjusting the force to laughter ratio

Adjusting the force to laughter ratio

I have discovered that the composition of a spherical object has a marked impact on the resilience of the surface to sudden applications of force using my chosen tools of inquiry: my slappy hands.

Final Conclusion: Awesome!

Final Conclusion: Awesome!

Pigmentation must not be overlooked as a factor in the spatio-visuo-spherico-continuum. Thus I have made my contribution to the sum of human knowledge. My discovery: Red Ball Makes Me Laugh!

The simple act of writing this scientific account of my experiments in this field has given me fresh ideas for future avenues of research. First, I must answer the question: What Does the Ball Taste Like? Humanity must have an answer!

My new job at the library

As I approach the ripe old age of 9 months I have come to the realization that I must soon find my way in the world. A choice of occupation was soon my preoccupation, and a quick trip to the library was in order.

As I perused the aisles of books trying to ascertain what line of work best suited my talents I realized that the answer lay not in the contents of the books on the shelves but in the books themselves. BOOKS!

I have found my calling!

I have found my calling!

But then I found a delicious lens cap and soon discovered the world of professional photography.

A career in photography beckons

A career in photography beckons

So many choices! I am afraid I must needs remain unemployed and at my leisure for a little while longer as I take stock of these weighty matters. I cannot dither too much longer as adulthood is surely just around the corner.

If the hat fits must I aquit?

I am a man of many hats. I am a gentleman of leisure, yet a gad-about-town. A world-weary traveler, but also a babe in toyland. But tho’ I wear so many hats in a day’s transit, there are some hats best not donned.

A hat too far!

A hat too far!

This travesty of haberdashery was foisted upon me by some well-meaning ladies who accosted me this weekend last during my sojourn to the ocean. T’was in vain that they inveigled me to don such an improper cranial ornamentation. Not to don, but to doff! The next head cozy was more to my liking.

Where be gold?

Where be gold?

I cannot say the how of it, but upon donning this hat I was overtaken by a powerful desire to take to the seas in search of adventure. I dare say but that if I had kept this hat on top of my head I might now be a pirate waylaying the unwary. My first act of piracy would be to chop off the head of anyone wearing the blue sequined hat from before!

After the fashion show of hats and such I went in search of solitude. On my lonely journey, far from the maddening crowd, I caught the glimpse of a handsome young man of scarcely my own age. I ran to greet him, embracing him as a brother.

Where have you been all of my life?

Where have you been all of my life?

It was only later that I learned that he was only my reflection. I should have known they could never make two of anything so cute. Alas!

These were but some of the adventures I had this weekend past with Mother, Rebecca, Sara, and Jenn at the beach. Such a weekend it was, just I and three lovely ladies to entertain as only I know how. Did they ever stand a chance?

8 Months Young.

I have of late, I know not wherefore how, lost all my mirth.

Wait, strike that, I should say “lost all my youth”. Mother and Father have been watching too much Hamlet, and I do not mean the cat. I have lost all my youth. Where has it gone? I do not know.

I do know that I am old beyond years. Actually I don’t have any years, but these 8 months have been plenty long. I really am very old.

Mother assisting an aged gentleman

Mother assisting an aged gentleman

Fetch me my cane, for I must away.

So long have I lived that I fear that life has no more surprises to offer. I can crawl, I can eat mashed carrots, I can throw things on the floor and occasionally pick them back up. Is there more? Is that not enough? These are the questions that plague me when I take the time to ponder them. Which is to say never.

Father just reminded me that 8 months is actually very young indeed, and that I have the whole of my life ahead of me, including most of what I will enjoy the most. He poses me the question of whether talking or walking will be my favorite life’s work. He has failed to consider that it might be the combination of both.

Carrots! I demand more carrots!

Thus I do entreat you, please you to entertain, an idea I press upon you, carrots mashed or strained.

Carrots I implore you, put them in my mouth, if a spoon should come in with them, I’ll eat it – have no doubt!

The spoon got too close to Carrot Face

The spoon got too close to Carrot Face

This poem I haver writ, to tell you of my love, of sloppy messy carrots, in my mouth I beg you shove.

On my face I will display them, a badge of honor dear, and stew them in my belly, orange soup – nutritious cheer.

Carrots? Where have you gone?

Carrots? Where have you gone?

Poems I have written, odes to carrots true, but can scarce suffice, to give my carrot’s due.

Penned this day of our Lord, All Carrot’s Hallo’d Eve, 2010.

Finnegan Wilde Kincaid

Peek-a-boo 2010

At the risk of being immodest, I must ascribe to myself the particular compliment of inventor of a new and most excellent pastime. I have created a new game that I call “Peek-a-boo 2010″. As a creature of the previous decade (I was born in 2009) I felt that the dawning of a new decade demanded an entirely new focus on the future. The tried and true methods of “Peek-a-boo” as practiced by all and sundry have grown most dated and stale. In short the game is in need of a freshening.

Voila:

Where did I go?

Where did I go?

Deft application of fine and gross motor skills and:

Here I am!

Here I am!

Repeat the process as many times as needed. I find that at least 10 repetitions are necessary for the desired effect. Giggling is optional, but highly reccomended.

Live to shop, shop to live.

On a whim I decided to drop by a local retail establishment. Upon arrival I discovered that arrangements had been made for my mobility. The accommodations were most acceptable.

Riding in style

Riding in style

The store is called “Target” (pronounced “Tar-zhay” by those in the know) and I had a deliriously happy excursion there. Although the baby clothing section kept Mother and Father occupied, the highlight for me was the wall of flat screen television sets. I insisted that Father drive me back and forth in front of them. Exquisite!

Swingers!

I really do feel that I am finally getting into the swing of things.

Swing of things

Swing of things

Mother took me for a leisurely circumabulation about the park by the Cowlitz River. A stroll on the beach was followed, as night follows day, by a visit to the local swing set. Dare I say it was exquisite?

I do believe I like this

I do believe I like this

This must be revisited in the future. Make a note: swings are fabulous!