Afoot, Afoul, Afloat, Denial.

Today is Alex's birthday! Sure, none of you care nor know who he is or anything about him, but think of me as a proud peacock with all my tail feathers showing because today I'm brimming with joy that my little boy is just a touch more grown up. Isn't he gorgeous?

3 weeks old

8 weeks old

1 year old

And, 'cause it's something to do:

The pen hit the paper with a leaky thud that was overshadowed by frantic drawing, and then the screams commenced.
“Hike!”
“Backpacking across Europe!”
“Um! Um! Explore!”
The artist shook his head, circled the bottom left corner of the large page, and allowed the pen to thud and ooze a few times before he continuing to draw.
“Bus number 11.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You idiot, stand up and think about it.”
The artist, growing increasingly frustrated, circled something else on the page and looked at his team while the pen bled out on the page.
“Trek?”
“Are those stickman supposed to be anatomically correct, ‘cause that dude is seriously lacking!”
A voice from across the room announces that 20 seconds remain.
“Draw something else you douche! No one knows what that is!”
Five seconds
“Your mom!”
Time is up.
The artist erupts “Afoot, you morons! Afoot!”
“You draw a dude with a tiny shlong and a hill, and we’re supposed to guess 'afoot?'”
The artist sighs, shakes his head, and sits down.