"When I grow up I either want to be an alien or a Munkle."

Somehow we're always in the bath room, preparing for bathtime (pit-tub time), when we take pictures.

"Shai, make a weird face." Behold the squid.

"Ok. Munkle. You're a cute peacock." (Loving the trademark Nanaw finger in the corner.)

We have some fun times.

So we're playing on the bed. A favorite pastime since he was old enough to play. Munkle's bed is brimming with all things wonderful and adventurous. We've been pirates, robots, dinosaurs, birds, campers, slugs, airplanes, and Wolverine in my pillow laden play land. This particular night, the night before last, he was Iron Man and I was the big machine that wanted to throw him off a cliff. This involved me swinging him by his legs and arms like a slingshot onto my bed. Well, this last forceful lunging of the god-son onto the bed was a little too forceful and he bounced off the bed and onto the floor on the other side. He starts laughing immediately, clearly unharmed. So of course then I start laughing at the almost cartoon-like scenario that just happened. I hear some clamoring followed by a pale, small fist that shoots up from beneath the mattress. His little thumb pokes up like a flag.

"I'm alright!", squeaks a baby chipmunk voice. The thumb raised higher than ever.

I virtually collapse from laughing so hard. Soon after his cheery head pops up from the floor, hands on his cheeks, grinning at me.