<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401</id><updated>2011-05-03T04:25:49.421-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Evan's World</title><subtitle type='html'>Ongoing blog of Evan's life...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>70</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-3319285119786395749</id><published>2008-09-17T09:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T17:04:25.604-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Passport</title><content type='html'>Since Sarah &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Palin&lt;/span&gt; finally got around to getting a passport, I figured it was high time for Evan to get one too. He has only had his Vietnamese passport and a pile of paperwork to this point. If all goes well, he'll have a US passport in 3-4 weeks (still in his Vietnamese name...have not gotten around to changing that yet).  I hope all goes well - they took all of my original adoption documents, promising to return them.  They had better!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-3319285119786395749?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=3319285119786395749' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/3319285119786395749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/3319285119786395749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/09/passport.html' title='Passport'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-4488997658498373478</id><published>2008-09-14T20:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T20:35:15.317-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Evan, Lecturing</title><content type='html'>Among several fun and funny things in Arkansas was Evan's reading of Dr. Seuss, from his makeshift podium:&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SM3XxR3uAJI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/dZLRX4yobwA/s1600-h/Reading.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246086382567162002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SM3XxR3uAJI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/dZLRX4yobwA/s320/Reading.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a video (my first YouTube upload):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/W5BRzJsE9Fk&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/W5BRzJsE9Fk&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-4488997658498373478?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=4488997658498373478' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/4488997658498373478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/4488997658498373478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/09/evan-lecturing.html' title='Evan, Lecturing'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SM3XxR3uAJI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/dZLRX4yobwA/s72-c/Reading.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-393055450574033498</id><published>2008-08-27T13:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-27T13:15:09.437-07:00</updated><title type='text'>En Route to Arkansas</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SLW1zqAoVeI/AAAAAAAAAXI/JeCxem1rKNM/s1600-h/Image049-709439.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SLW1zqAoVeI/AAAAAAAAAXI/JeCxem1rKNM/s320/Image049-709439.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239293640570328546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-393055450574033498?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=393055450574033498' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/393055450574033498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/393055450574033498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/08/en-route-to-arkansas.html' title='En Route to Arkansas'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SLW1zqAoVeI/AAAAAAAAAXI/JeCxem1rKNM/s72-c/Image049-709439.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-8535726911040919014</id><published>2008-08-25T11:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T11:22:22.467-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Recent Conversation</title><content type='html'>Conversations are getting more and more interesting around here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evan:  Daddy, come sit down - play - right now.  Build garbage truck [anything built of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;legos&lt;/span&gt; is a garbage truck these days]&lt;br /&gt;Me:  How about I sit here [on the sofa]?&lt;br /&gt;Evan:  No...sit down on carpet - it's &lt;em&gt;nice&lt;/em&gt; [Evan runs his palm across the carpet to show how comfortable it will be and looks at me with a knowing smile]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-8535726911040919014?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=8535726911040919014' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/8535726911040919014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/8535726911040919014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/08/recent-conversation.html' title='Recent Conversation'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-58185540710202644</id><published>2008-07-29T22:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T23:06:20.435-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Swimming!</title><content type='html'>As of tonight, Evan made a major swimming breakthrough!  We've been doing parent-child swim plus some "open swim" at the YMCA for a few months and Evan has always been pretty comfortable in the water.  He jumps right in and can more or less get himself to the surface but then he pretty much wants to hang on to me.  We've been working on using one of the foam "noodles" across his chest and under his arms for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;buoyancy&lt;/span&gt; but up until tonight, he's preferred to just smack the thing on the water.  Tonight he figured it out and spent 30 minutes independently kicking his way around the pool, happily babbling to himself.  I was amazed how quickly he could move through the water and how well he could steer.  Of course, Evan is not exactly swimming but this was a huge step in that direction.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-58185540710202644?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=58185540710202644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/58185540710202644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/58185540710202644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/07/swimming.html' title='Swimming!'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-2730447815895181162</id><published>2008-06-28T19:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T19:03:47.464-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Carnivore</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SGbtgxi6sYI/AAAAAAAAAXA/GcyMkbuzYRY/s1600-h/Image046-727467.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SGbtgxi6sYI/AAAAAAAAAXA/GcyMkbuzYRY/s320/Image046-727467.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217118365666685314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-2730447815895181162?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=2730447815895181162' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/2730447815895181162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/2730447815895181162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/06/carnivore.html' title='Carnivore'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SGbtgxi6sYI/AAAAAAAAAXA/GcyMkbuzYRY/s72-c/Image046-727467.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-4500156340966138581</id><published>2008-06-17T19:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-17T19:15:14.588-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Climber</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SFhvst2vWKI/AAAAAAAAAW0/VxzaUOl03CE/s1600-h/Image041-714590.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SFhvst2vWKI/AAAAAAAAAW0/VxzaUOl03CE/s320/Image041-714590.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213039382695467170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-4500156340966138581?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=4500156340966138581' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/4500156340966138581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/4500156340966138581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/06/climber.html' title='Climber'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SFhvst2vWKI/AAAAAAAAAW0/VxzaUOl03CE/s72-c/Image041-714590.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-3190563250482486295</id><published>2008-06-11T19:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T19:24:21.317-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it a sign?</title><content type='html'>I'm in New York tonight, far from Evan.  He seemed OK with me being gone for a few days and he responds "New York" when asked where &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Da&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Da&lt;/span&gt; is.  This morning, I repeated that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Da&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Da&lt;/span&gt; was going on an airplane to New York and Evan thought about it before responding "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Da&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Da&lt;/span&gt; Evan New York."  Well, I wish I could take him.  When I picked up my rental car, there were two child seats in the back - one for Evan and one for an infant.  Is this a sign?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-3190563250482486295?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=3190563250482486295' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/3190563250482486295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/3190563250482486295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/06/is-it-sign.html' title='Is it a sign?'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-7969671671194974475</id><published>2008-05-29T12:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T12:47:21.511-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dad's Car</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SD8ISpDBrRI/AAAAAAAAAWU/-m1kiHVpuNI/s1600-h/Image035-741513.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SD8ISpDBrRI/AAAAAAAAAWU/-m1kiHVpuNI/s320/Image035-741513.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205888810612796690" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-7969671671194974475?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=7969671671194974475' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/7969671671194974475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/7969671671194974475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/05/dads-car.html' title='Dad&apos;s Car'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SD8ISpDBrRI/AAAAAAAAAWU/-m1kiHVpuNI/s72-c/Image035-741513.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-1230464144305047455</id><published>2008-05-27T17:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T17:59:49.167-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Soccer</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SDyuhZDBrQI/AAAAAAAAAWM/yW2P7yauQKI/s1600-h/Image028-789169.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SDyuhZDBrQI/AAAAAAAAAWM/yW2P7yauQKI/s320/Image028-789169.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205227158015945986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-1230464144305047455?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=1230464144305047455' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/1230464144305047455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/1230464144305047455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/05/soccer.html' title='Soccer'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SDyuhZDBrQI/AAAAAAAAAWM/yW2P7yauQKI/s72-c/Image028-789169.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-5086886429492742483</id><published>2008-05-24T12:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T12:06:05.028-07:00</updated><title type='text'>At Ikea</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SDhnHZDBrPI/AAAAAAAAAWE/OxNBAhm6nBE/s1600-h/Image021-765031.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SDhnHZDBrPI/AAAAAAAAAWE/OxNBAhm6nBE/s320/Image021-765031.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5204022746106932466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-5086886429492742483?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=5086886429492742483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5086886429492742483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5086886429492742483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/05/at-ikea.html' title='At Ikea'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SDhnHZDBrPI/AAAAAAAAAWE/OxNBAhm6nBE/s72-c/Image021-765031.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-3771089382719484467</id><published>2008-05-14T10:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T10:35:55.535-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No injury - Evan insisted on bandaid!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SCsi-8Oq8GI/AAAAAAAAAV8/nTUALOOUWiY/s1600-h/Image015-755538.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SCsi-8Oq8GI/AAAAAAAAAV8/nTUALOOUWiY/s320/Image015-755538.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200288659444265058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-3771089382719484467?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=3771089382719484467' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/3771089382719484467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/3771089382719484467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/05/no-injury-evan-insisted-on-bandaid.html' title='No injury - Evan insisted on bandaid!'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SCsi-8Oq8GI/AAAAAAAAAV8/nTUALOOUWiY/s72-c/Image015-755538.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-5820400416733685896</id><published>2008-05-07T22:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T06:20:04.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Scariest Moment</title><content type='html'>About two weeks ago Evan got a nasty stomach virus that took about a week to work its way through his system. He was throwing up on and off for about 5 days along with the other &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;nastiness&lt;/span&gt; that goes with intestinal things. Two weeks ago, he was about 4 days into it and seemed to be on the mend - maybe even ready to go to daycare. I had gotten him his morning drink and dressed him when he got wobbly in my arms. I put him on the floor and he lay down face down and knees tucked in and started dry heaving. I dutifully put a towel under him and prepared myself for a small cleanup job. I noticed that Evan was not throwing up anything and that his eyes &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;seemed&lt;/span&gt; to be rolled back. At this point I started freaking out. Was he having a seizure? Was he choking? I anxiously watched and reassured myself that he was breathing and his heart was beating. I don't know how long it lasted but Evan's heaving stopped and I picked him up. He was *limp* and his head just flopped to the side. This was definitely the scariest parenting moment yet. Should I call 911? Should I shake him like people seem to do with their lifeless children in the movies (answer: no!). Figuring he might have thrown something up and choked, I flipped him over face down, with one arm between his legs and hand on his chest and patted him on the back with the other. Luckily, he came to more or less immediately, though that was more a coincidence than anything. With a huge feeling of relief, I called Evan's pediatrician and got him on the phone within 15 seconds. The Doctor was not phased much at all by the events - something I found reassuring. This was the explanation: when kids have been sick and vomiting, they can be weak enough that the blood pressure drop associated with dry heaving can cause them to faint. I had never heard of it and I suppose it makes sense but, damn, I don't want to go through that again!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-5820400416733685896?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=5820400416733685896' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5820400416733685896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5820400416733685896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/05/scariest-moment.html' title='The Scariest Moment'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-505612305693858913</id><published>2008-05-01T20:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T20:52:15.296-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New!  Random Pictures</title><content type='html'>I'm going to start posting pictures from my camera phone just because that gives me a way to do real-time updates to my blog wherever I am...  I have it set up that I can take a picture, send it as a picture message to blogger, and automatically publish it to my blog.  That means the pictures will be just a few minutes old when they are posted...  The quality won't be great but that's the tradeoff.  What do you think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-505612305693858913?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=505612305693858913' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/505612305693858913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/505612305693858913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/05/new-random-pictures.html' title='New!  Random Pictures'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-3906237686509024349</id><published>2008-05-01T17:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-01T17:39:56.902-07:00</updated><title type='text'>At the park</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SBpi3fS0YlI/AAAAAAAAAVw/F4aaM2vVRR4/s1600-h/Image011-796905.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SBpi3fS0YlI/AAAAAAAAAVw/F4aaM2vVRR4/s320/Image011-796905.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195573825558045266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-3906237686509024349?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=3906237686509024349' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/3906237686509024349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/3906237686509024349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/05/at-park.html' title='At the park'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SBpi3fS0YlI/AAAAAAAAAVw/F4aaM2vVRR4/s72-c/Image011-796905.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-7513695324632385494</id><published>2008-04-30T19:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T19:44:09.338-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dinner</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SBkuefS0YkI/AAAAAAAAAVo/-RRuNbOp-r4/s1600-h/Image009-749340.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SBkuefS0YkI/AAAAAAAAAVo/-RRuNbOp-r4/s320/Image009-749340.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195234746479960642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-7513695324632385494?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=7513695324632385494' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/7513695324632385494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/7513695324632385494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/04/dinner.html' title='Dinner'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SBkuefS0YkI/AAAAAAAAAVo/-RRuNbOp-r4/s72-c/Image009-749340.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-2311105035218243078</id><published>2008-04-29T13:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T13:18:20.605-07:00</updated><title type='text'>From my camera phone</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="mobile-photo"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SBeCjPS0YjI/AAAAAAAAAVg/jYrIuPDgDe8/s1600-h/Image003-700608.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SBeCjPS0YjI/AAAAAAAAAVg/jYrIuPDgDe8/s320/Image003-700608.jpg"  border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5194764237107651122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-2311105035218243078?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=2311105035218243078' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/2311105035218243078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/2311105035218243078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/04/from-my-camera-phone.html' title='From my camera phone'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/SBeCjPS0YjI/AAAAAAAAAVg/jYrIuPDgDe8/s72-c/Image003-700608.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-117903521529940696</id><published>2008-03-30T16:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T17:28:17.739-07:00</updated><title type='text'>He's Regressing</title><content type='html'>Don't be alarmed; I'm confident Evan is not regressing.  However, for two days last week, Evan really wanted me to hold him like a baby and have his night time milk (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;sippy&lt;/span&gt; cup) held by me like a bottle.  He even said "Baby" to make the point.  It's been a while since I fed him milk in my lap and, well, he kind of does not fit anymore.  Still it was fun to reminisce.  Anyway, I read somewhere that two year &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;olds&lt;/span&gt; are like rubber bands...they stretch and assert their independence but sometimes need a little TLC.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-117903521529940696?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=117903521529940696' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/117903521529940696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/117903521529940696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/03/hes-regressing.html' title='He&apos;s Regressing'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-4151360706312460719</id><published>2008-03-24T22:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T22:42:56.229-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Miscellanea</title><content type='html'>I got an e-mail today from somebody who pointed out that I had not updated my blog in a month. It was good to know somebody was even checking... Unlike my friend in Denver, who is blogging multiple times a day while in LABOR (seriously!), blogging is pretty much part time for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No progress on the potty training, by the way. Evan is just not that interested yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evan can now pedal his tricycle. So, when I walk the dog, Evan follows along in his "big wheel" (least that's what I called it when I was growing up). It's great to look back and see him following along. I want to buy him a nicer tricycle when I get a chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were looking at pictures from my trip to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Vietnam&lt;/span&gt; the other night. Evan sat in my lap, watching intently. When we got to the picture of me all dressed up for the "G&amp;amp;R" (Giving and Receiving) Ceremony - when Evan was to become mine under Vietnamese Law, Evan said "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Da&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Da&lt;/span&gt;" in the most knowing way, turned around, and gave me a big hug. It was as if he knew the significance of that particular picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend was a busy one. Saturday afternoon, Evan and I visited the Vietnamese facilitator from my agency and his wife. They live about an hour away and only the facilitator had met Evan before - 15 months ago in Hanoi. It was fun to introduce/reintroduce Evan and reestablish a connection to these kind people who have dedicated so much energy to helping Vietnamese orphans find homes. I think Evan made a good impression. Here are pictures of Evan with the facilitator...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Vietnam: &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R-iLF-FoTSI/AAAAAAAAAUM/SUeYd3T6hwc/s1600-h/DSCN2832+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181544305971973410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R-iLF-FoTSI/AAAAAAAAAUM/SUeYd3T6hwc/s320/DSCN2832+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday: &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R-iLRuFoTTI/AAAAAAAAAUU/hs0bdUlUBiI/s1600-h/DSCN5189+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181544507835436338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R-iLRuFoTTI/AAAAAAAAAUU/hs0bdUlUBiI/s320/DSCN5189+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;p&gt;Sunday was Easter and Evan got to color eggs. My big fears of spilled bowls of dye were not realized and the only casualties were a few eggs that suffered cracks. All in all, Evan did a great job coloring the eggs and he really seemed to enjoy the project&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R-iPuuFoTUI/AAAAAAAAAUc/7leKKe4hvCk/s1600-h/IMG_0687+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181549404098153794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R-iPuuFoTUI/AAAAAAAAAUc/7leKKe4hvCk/s320/IMG_0687+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-4151360706312460719?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=4151360706312460719' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/4151360706312460719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/4151360706312460719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/03/miscellanea.html' title='Miscellanea'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R-iLF-FoTSI/AAAAAAAAAUM/SUeYd3T6hwc/s72-c/DSCN2832+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-6156355065291710099</id><published>2008-02-24T22:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T22:30:32.757-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Potty Training?</title><content type='html'>So, yesterday, an innocent comment I made evolved into a pretty funny scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evan just got a train with some little people that bend at the waist (so they can fit in the cars). I was working on the computer with Evan on my lap and he put two of the people on my keyboard. One was in the bent over position. This was a teachable moment. We're working on potty training, and most parents know that a key step is putting language to the various acts. Evan and I already discuss what it means when &lt;em&gt;he&lt;/em&gt; is bent over and grunting...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I remarked that the little person was going poo-poo. Evan agreed and wanted the other person to go too. Here's a picture of the two characters at that point:&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R8Je7u9QdBI/AAAAAAAAATs/c8NuNO2hyKU/s1600-h/DSCN5106+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170799702485005330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R8Je7u9QdBI/AAAAAAAAATs/c8NuNO2hyKU/s320/DSCN5106+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evan grunted and repeated "poo poo" several times. Figuring the game was over, I grabbed on person and straightened him up, whereupon Evan loudly said "No! MORE". This is exactly what he says when I ask him if he's done and he's not. &lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;With this post, I can safely say I have gone over to the dark side of parenthood. To my non-parent friends, I can confidently say you are now better off deleting me from your address books.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-6156355065291710099?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=6156355065291710099' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6156355065291710099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6156355065291710099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/02/potty-training.html' title='Potty Training?'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R8Je7u9QdBI/AAAAAAAAATs/c8NuNO2hyKU/s72-c/DSCN5106+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-4297194455161543182</id><published>2008-02-10T21:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T22:17:41.903-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Trip North and 2 Years Old</title><content type='html'>I'll share a few photos of our trip to Northern California, which began the day after Evan's ear infection and lasted about 9 days. The trip was to attend a memorial for my mother, who passed away last summer, and to visit relatives in Calistoga (in the Napa Valley). The memorial, held at my Aunt's house, was very moving but made me sad that Evan only briefly knew his grandmother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first two pictures are a bit fuzzy around the edges...something to do with some very small grubby fingers playing with the camera lens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's Evan with my sister:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R8JaWu9Qc8I/AAAAAAAAATE/SO6PzXYSNz0/s1600-h/DSCN5041+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170794668783334338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R8JaWu9Qc8I/AAAAAAAAATE/SO6PzXYSNz0/s320/DSCN5041+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here we are at the Marin County Cheese Factory, a place used to go as a kid:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R8JauO9Qc9I/AAAAAAAAATM/9UKceToCRXw/s1600-h/DSCN5083+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170795072510260178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R8JauO9Qc9I/AAAAAAAAATM/9UKceToCRXw/s320/DSCN5083+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evan turned 2 during the trip and my relatives in Calistoga made sure he was treated well. We actually re-lit the candles a few times so we could get a good shot of Evan blowing them out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R8JbVO9Qc-I/AAAAAAAAATU/N8B0U7Tp4XA/s1600-h/IMG_0291+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170795742525158370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R8JbVO9Qc-I/AAAAAAAAATU/N8B0U7Tp4XA/s320/IMG_0291+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is Evan looking much like a farmer on an old tractor:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R8JcAe9Qc_I/AAAAAAAAATc/B9WNO-AFV2c/s1600-h/IMG_0323+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170796485554500594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R8JcAe9Qc_I/AAAAAAAAATc/B9WNO-AFV2c/s320/IMG_0323+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, here is a picture of my Aunt Marlys and Uncle Brad, who were such incredible hosts, as they always are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R8JdD-9QdAI/AAAAAAAAATk/cP22UpVZ8jg/s1600-h/IMG_0269+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170797645195670530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R8JdD-9QdAI/AAAAAAAAATk/cP22UpVZ8jg/s320/IMG_0269+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-4297194455161543182?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=4297194455161543182' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/4297194455161543182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/4297194455161543182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/02/trip-north-and-2-years-old.html' title='The Trip North and 2 Years Old'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R8JaWu9Qc8I/AAAAAAAAATE/SO6PzXYSNz0/s72-c/DSCN5041+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-2944904291196017466</id><published>2008-02-02T21:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T21:51:45.266-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hardest Week</title><content type='html'>With Jan 27 began what has been my hardest 7 days of parenting yet.  Evan started with a fever that afternoon.  The next day, his fever spiked up and down and he seemed pretty unhappy - and his cough started.  That night, I slept with Evan so I could monitor his fever and he coughed a few times in my mouth.   The one great benefit of this was that, starting a day later, I was able to tell pretty much what Evan was going through.  The week was a blur of fever, sore throat, coughing, and body aches for both of us, and Evan threw up a few times for good measure.  I cannot say how hard it is to parent a sick kid when you need attention yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Thursday, things were looking better (for Evan at least) and then his fever came back with a vengeance:  104.6.  I realized I did not know what emergency room to take him to should his fever go over 105.  I spent the evening making emergency room plans, while Evan dozed on the sofa lethargically, hopped up on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Tylenol&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ibuprofen&lt;/span&gt;.  At 9 p.m., he popped his head up, smiled, and asked for a cracker.  His fever seemed to have broken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only realized how "off" Evan had been when I got him up on Friday morning.  What a great feeling to pick up a kid with a normal temperature!  I had truly forgotten what it felt like. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A trip to the doctor confirmed an ear infection (Evan's first) and so we started a course of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;amoxycillin&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was definitely the worst cold I have had in 10 years.  I would say it's the sickest Evan has been, but now I'm flashing back to that stomach virus a year ago.  I won't take you there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-2944904291196017466?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=2944904291196017466' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/2944904291196017466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/2944904291196017466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/02/hardest-week.html' title='The Hardest Week'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-246871831618027864</id><published>2008-01-25T19:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T19:56:16.895-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Loss of Perfection?</title><content type='html'>A week has elapsed since the events I'm about to describe but I still want to capture my thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last Friday, I got a call from Evan's day care provider saying Evan was inconsolably clingy and crying unless he was being held.  This was contrary to his usual demeanor and I initially though he was just upset that I had been out of town the previous two days (my dad flew in and had been watching Evan).  So, I offered to talk to Evan, who seemed to calm down &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;immediately&lt;/span&gt; as I spoke to him.  I thought nothing more and took a few long calls for work.  Later, when I called daycare, it seemed that Evan was no better so I went to pick him up early.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At daycare, the staff had concluded something was wrong with Evan's left arm.  He was holding it stiffly to his side and his wrist seemed tender.  He also seemed unwilling or unable to lift his arm.  When I gave him my car keys to hold, he held them weakly and eventually dropped them.   I got Evan home after gingerly strapping him into the car seat and I left a message for the doctor.  I figured it might be a sprain or torn ligament yet nobody seemed to have seen or heard any traumatic event.  I laid Evan down for his nap and he held his arm stiffly to his side like a mummy as I covered him with blankets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a lot of conflicted feelings while Evan napped.  How had he gotten injured?  Should I be mad at my dad, who took him to daycare?  Should I be mad at the daycare staff?  Had somebody done something careless and was now refusing to tell me?  Were those perfect supple toddler ligaments and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;muscles&lt;/span&gt; now irreparably damaged?   Could Evan, who always seemed to bounce back, now have some permanent damage that would plague him the rest of his life?  What if he was left-handed?  Could I have prevented it?  Was Evan's perfect body now already starting to collect scars like I've collected from from my accidents and neglect over the years?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily, the Doctor did have an appointment available and I'm glad I took it.  After a long wait, the doctor listened briefly to my explanation and wanted to hear no more.  I tried to explain that there was a simultaneous shoulder-wrist trauma.  He did not care.  He was sure it was a dislocated elbow - something he sees every day.   With Evan in my lap, the good Doctor straightened Evan's arm, turned his hand over, and bent the elbow.  With a small pop, Evan was cured and the Doctor was happily swiveling Evan's arm around.  It was like when Jimmy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Swaggert&lt;/span&gt; cures a cripple and they rise up from the wheel chair.   Evan cried a bit but was more surprised than anybody.   Evan was so happy he kept showing off all his new moves with his arm.   I know Evan is going to LOVE going to the doctor for a while and he may well become one because of this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what actually happened?  Normally dislocated elbows are caused by swinging or lifting a child by one arm (don't do this, readers!).  They also happen when a stubborn two-year old refuses to budge and gets pulled by one arm.  I'm not sure either of these was the cause here.  I suspect it occurred as Evan writhed his way out of his car seat - something he does (well, actually, used to do) with gusto.  Why he did not yelp out in pain, I do not know, but he does have a high pain threshold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;all's&lt;/span&gt; well that ends well but it really was an amazing day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-246871831618027864?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=246871831618027864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/246871831618027864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/246871831618027864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/01/loss-of-perfection.html' title='The Loss of Perfection?'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-6268231904702119746</id><published>2008-01-04T20:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T21:03:41.681-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No No La La!!!</title><content type='html'>Just wanted to capture a cute moment for posterity.  The dog's name is Lani, and Evan calls her "La La".  Lately, the dog has been quite a vulture around the dinner table and has been getting lots of "No's".  So, that's were Evan learned to say "No No La La!".  He has not quite learned that this is an admonition only meant for the dog.  The other day, at daycare, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kaya&lt;/span&gt; (Evan's girlfriend) was pulling apart the foam floor tiles.  The teacher told her no, and Evan pointed at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kaya&lt;/span&gt; and sternly said "No No La La!!".  Cracked everybody up.   I guess you had to be there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-6268231904702119746?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=6268231904702119746' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6268231904702119746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6268231904702119746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/01/no-no-la-la.html' title='No No La La!!!'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-6757693067045021577</id><published>2008-01-04T19:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-04T21:21:05.861-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas and Hopping Mad</title><content type='html'>This post is about two unrelated things, actually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, Christmas was great. Evan got all the gifts and he has already figured out that wrapped things are generally good. He has also figured out that clothes are not nearly as fun as toys. Aside from smashing a few ornaments, Evan behaved really well around the tree despite all the temptations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hopping mad part has to do with what happened last night. Evan was in a great mood after his bath but when he swiveled around to go into the living room, he missed his turn and walked right into the door jamb. It hurt a little but he was more &lt;em&gt;mad&lt;/em&gt; than anything. He clenched his fists and hopped from one foot to another a few times before getting over it. I was so proud of how he expressed a strong emotion in an effective way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight, as I write this, Evan decided he wanted to get under the blankets and lay on the sofa to go to sleep. He's talking himself to sleep right now. I see his crib days as coming to an end.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-6757693067045021577?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=6757693067045021577' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6757693067045021577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6757693067045021577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2008/01/christmas-and-hopping-mad.html' title='Christmas and Hopping Mad'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-3447929226156274248</id><published>2007-12-15T13:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T13:16:50.168-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gotcha Day</title><content type='html'>The 11&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; was "gotcha day" for Evan - the day he joined his "forever family".  It does not feel like a year has elapsed since the "Giving and Receiving" ceremony but when I think of all the events that have transpired, it is definitely more than a year's worth of activity.  I have a lot to be thankful for!  Best wishes to all, this holiday season, from me and my best Christmas present from 2006 - Evan.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-3447929226156274248?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=3447929226156274248' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/3447929226156274248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/3447929226156274248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/12/gotcha-day.html' title='Gotcha Day'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-7563571961880942041</id><published>2007-12-10T21:00:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T21:14:09.661-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I do!, I do!, I do!</title><content type='html'>Does this count as Evan's first sentence?  I've been hearing it a lot lately. Evan wants to do EVERYTHING on his own and is incessant with his determined tries.  It's been a challenge to let him try and learn things while still actually getting anything done.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Generally, Evan is going through a bit of a demanding phase.  He throws mini tantrums (noisy but tearless), sets his jaw in a determined way, and tries to test his boundaries.  Tonight, he looked me right in the eye and thew his fork on the floor (he knows he should not).   This earned him a very short (and effective) bit of time out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Despite&lt;/span&gt; the above things, Evan is a terrific and easy-going kid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-7563571961880942041?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=7563571961880942041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/7563571961880942041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/7563571961880942041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-do-i-do-i-do.html' title='I do!, I do!, I do!'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-989566941314024389</id><published>2007-12-06T22:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T22:29:49.816-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Duh!</title><content type='html'>Evan has finally started to differentiate his prepositions...  This has been a refreshing change since there was a long period where everything was "down".  Now, when he wants up, he says so.  Today, he was extending his arms upwards and grunting, so I told him to "use his words".  In the exact tone of an annoyed impatient teenager stating the obvious, he said "up".  So, while I've been bossed around by Evan for some time, now I'm getting it with attitude.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-989566941314024389?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=989566941314024389' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/989566941314024389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/989566941314024389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/12/duh.html' title='Duh!'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-8285519556584397394</id><published>2007-11-30T21:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-10T21:00:02.773-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving</title><content type='html'>I'm backdating this post since, well, I've been remiss in keeping up. For Thanksgiving, we flew to Tampa to visit &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Opa&lt;/span&gt; (my father) and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Oma&lt;/span&gt; (his wife). &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Oma&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Opa&lt;/span&gt; are German for Grandpa and Grandma. Evan also got to see his aunt Katy, who was also there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The flight over went as well as could be hoped. At nearly 2, Evan's days of being a lap-child are pretty much over. The red-eye flight was full and neither of us was able to get comfortable enough to sleep very well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evan adapted to his new surroundings very well, especially since the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;babyproofing&lt;/span&gt; that had been done pretty much ended with dusting off the high chair and setting up the pack-n-play. Despite the large number of delicate porcelain figurines in easy reach, Evan didn't break a thing. Evan has been a bit clingy lately (normal at this age), which made getting comfortable with the family a gradual process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evan was an absolute and utter wreck at Thanksgiving dinner, shrieking and wailing when I put him in his high chair. Eventually, he settled down with some quiet time in has crib in the back bedroom, but not before emitting the most mournful series of "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Da&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Da's&lt;/span&gt;" yet. In return, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Da&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Da&lt;/span&gt; got lukewarm but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;delicous&lt;/span&gt; turkey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ten days in Florida passed quickly. We took lots of walks around the neighborhood with the dog, and Evan happily pushed the stroller or walked rather than riding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R1zYb7ElpkI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/37aBclNSHq4/s1600-h/P1020901+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142222848775267906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R1zYb7ElpkI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/37aBclNSHq4/s320/P1020901+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Evan helped decorate the Christmas tree with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Oma&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Opa&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R1zZGbElplI/AAAAAAAAAMY/dUqe9tQJCq0/s1600-h/IMG_2298+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142223578919708242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R1zZGbElplI/AAAAAAAAAMY/dUqe9tQJCq0/s320/IMG_2298+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Evan and also got to open some presents, while wearing his Santa suit bought in Hanoi. These presents will be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;rewrapped&lt;/span&gt; and reopened for Christmas in California&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R1zZa7ElpmI/AAAAAAAAAMg/9EfJtCfT7WQ/s1600-h/IMG_2305+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142223931107026530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R1zZa7ElpmI/AAAAAAAAAMg/9EfJtCfT7WQ/s320/IMG_2305+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Here is a picture with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Oma&lt;/span&gt;, whom Evan met for the first time on this trip. Before posting this picture I showed it to Evan and he immediately pointed and said "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Oma&lt;/span&gt;!"&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R1zaS7ElpnI/AAAAAAAAAMo/-vNNYY2Zh-E/s1600-h/IMG_2326+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142224893179700850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R1zaS7ElpnI/AAAAAAAAAMo/-vNNYY2Zh-E/s320/IMG_2326+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The trip home was much easier...I had a night flight and an entirely empty row. Evan slept soundly for 3 1/2 hours out of the 5 hour flight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-8285519556584397394?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=8285519556584397394' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/8285519556584397394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/8285519556584397394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/11/thanksgiving.html' title='Thanksgiving'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R1zYb7ElpkI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/37aBclNSHq4/s72-c/P1020901+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-5810365022829521195</id><published>2007-11-17T21:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T12:40:20.276-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rapper Evan - Before and After?</title><content type='html'>When I first saw this picture, it was pretty clear that Evan might have a future in rap music. &lt;b&gt;Mouse over the picture&lt;/b&gt; to compare Evan's look with that of 50-cent... Anybody know where I can get bling that is safety tested for two-year-olds???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rz_MH5v9xjI/AAAAAAAAALw/wBtg1Uz4cYU/s1600-h/DSCN4588+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134046536358807090" onmouseover="this.src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/R0Ci0pv9xmI/AAAAAAAAAMI/dlNNJC_JwtQ/s320/50Cent.jpg'" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" onmouseout="this.src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rz_MH5v9xjI/AAAAAAAAALw/wBtg1Uz4cYU/s320/DSCN4588+(Large).JPG'" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rz_MH5v9xjI/AAAAAAAAALw/wBtg1Uz4cYU/s320/DSCN4588+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-5810365022829521195?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=5810365022829521195' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5810365022829521195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5810365022829521195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/11/rapper-evan.html' title='Rapper Evan - Before and After?'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rz_MH5v9xjI/AAAAAAAAALw/wBtg1Uz4cYU/s72-c/DSCN4588+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-1097649002122819400</id><published>2007-11-17T21:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-17T21:20:03.656-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween</title><content type='html'>Yes, Evan did it all for his first Halloween. We carved a pumpkin and learned that Evan did not much like touching pumpkin guts, though he was happy to scoop with a spoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rz_IsZv9xhI/AAAAAAAAALg/yJs_9Lbas6Q/s1600-h/DSCN4849+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134042765377521170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rz_IsZv9xhI/AAAAAAAAALg/yJs_9Lbas6Q/s320/DSCN4849+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also took Evan Trick or Treating, which he loved. We probably hit about 20 houses and Evan had the routine down...knocking on doors, looking innocent and cute, and taking a minimum of 3 pieces of candy that I suggested "he" might like. Here's skunk-Evan before heading out, with a friend, Janine:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rz_JvZv9xiI/AAAAAAAAALo/8xGrABNDYnA/s1600-h/DSCN4917+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134043916428756514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rz_JvZv9xiI/AAAAAAAAALo/8xGrABNDYnA/s320/DSCN4917+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-1097649002122819400?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=1097649002122819400' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/1097649002122819400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/1097649002122819400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/11/halloween.html' title='Halloween'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rz_IsZv9xhI/AAAAAAAAALg/yJs_9Lbas6Q/s72-c/DSCN4849+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-5241277903650608100</id><published>2007-11-17T20:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-17T21:18:56.477-08:00</updated><title type='text'>More Denver Pictures</title><content type='html'>I realized I had not posted in quite some time so here are some posts to catch up on a few things. First, here are a few more pictures from the Denver trip in Early September...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, I visited a friend whose family I have known for years. They more or less adopted me and included me back when I was in college and was unable to travel to visit family during holidays. One brother's wife presented Evan with a beautiful quilt she had made. Evan was quite taken with it. He immediately unfolded it, spread it out on the floor and sat down:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rz_GnZv9xfI/AAAAAAAAALQ/MVwub5sQdMc/s1600-h/DSCN4620+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134040480454919666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rz_GnZv9xfI/AAAAAAAAALQ/MVwub5sQdMc/s320/DSCN4620+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the last day of the trip, I took Evan to the mountains to visit the site where my mother's ashes were placed. It was a beautiful day and the aspen trees were nearly finished losing their leaves for the winter. Here's Evan in the kid backpack, with the site in the background.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rz_H-Zv9xgI/AAAAAAAAALY/_S4N7e7GXWo/s1600-h/DSCN4685+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134041975103538690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rz_H-Zv9xgI/AAAAAAAAALY/_S4N7e7GXWo/s320/DSCN4685+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-5241277903650608100?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=5241277903650608100' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5241277903650608100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5241277903650608100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/11/more-denver-pictures.html' title='More Denver Pictures'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rz_GnZv9xfI/AAAAAAAAALQ/MVwub5sQdMc/s72-c/DSCN4620+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-6748693804824008735</id><published>2007-10-16T09:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T09:36:40.932-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Enabling Comments!</title><content type='html'>As of this post, I have now enabled comments on the blog.  Anybody may leave comments, so please let me know you're out there.  Initially, I will be &lt;strong&gt;moderating&lt;/strong&gt; comments, which means I'll OK them before they appear.  So, don't worry if there is a delay before your comment appears.  Also, I've enabled a feature that should keep automated (spam) comments from being left.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-6748693804824008735?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5626451925009886401&amp;postID=6748693804824008735' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6748693804824008735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6748693804824008735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/10/enabling-comments.html' title='Enabling Comments!'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-5655927539895646381</id><published>2007-10-15T21:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T08:04:51.551-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Half Life</title><content type='html'>As of today, Evan has now spent half of his life with me...10 months and 4 days of it!!! So, Evan's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;orphanage&lt;/span&gt;* days will be in the minority forever more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*It's not that I think Evan's orphanage experience was completely horrible (as I fear it is for many children).  Evan seemed well cared for, he had no developmental delays, his height and weight were within norms, and he was healthy. Nevertheless, I'm glad he with me now!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-5655927539895646381?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5655927539895646381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5655927539895646381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/10/half-life.html' title='Half Life'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-5076936529123295679</id><published>2007-10-01T20:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T21:53:11.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If you don't eat your dinner, you won't get any...pickled radish!</title><content type='html'>This is not a phrase one hears often. Except in this house. Japanese food was for dinner so the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Japanese&lt;/span&gt; pickles (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;tsukemono&lt;/span&gt;) were on the table. Just for fun, Evan got to try a piece of pickled &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;daikon&lt;/span&gt; radish. They are pungent and slightly sweet and not really something kids should love. However, Evan really liked them - maybe because they are really crunchy. The rest of the meal was an exercise in bribing him to eat his regular dinner in exchange for bits of pickle (it worked). Evan was too full for dessert. Here is a picture I found online of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;tsukemono&lt;/span&gt; - the radishes are the yellow stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RwHCMzKshEI/AAAAAAAAALA/LzCTa8ni-74/s1600-h/pickles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116584176818881602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RwHCMzKshEI/AAAAAAAAALA/LzCTa8ni-74/s320/pickles.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was Korean food and Evan liked the dried chewy-sweet baby anchovies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, we've flown to Denver and back since my previous post but I have not had a chance to tell that story in full. Of course, Evan did visit his buddy, &lt;a href="http://www.goodhappenings.com/"&gt;Jackson&lt;/a&gt;, and they had a great time playing at the Children's Museum and at the amazing playground at the former &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Stapleton&lt;/span&gt; International Airport (closed when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;DIA&lt;/span&gt; a.k.a. West-Kansas International opened). Here they are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RwHDLTKshFI/AAAAAAAAALI/ayaifcfc06o/s1600-h/DSCN4589.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116585250560705618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RwHDLTKshFI/AAAAAAAAALI/ayaifcfc06o/s320/DSCN4589.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-5076936529123295679?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5076936529123295679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5076936529123295679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/10/if-you-dont-eat-your-dinner-you-wont.html' title='If you don&apos;t eat your dinner, you won&apos;t get any...pickled radish!'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RwHCMzKshEI/AAAAAAAAALA/LzCTa8ni-74/s72-c/pickles.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-5551452169978388327</id><published>2007-09-17T21:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T21:30:39.704-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fire Truck</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, one last thing from the weekend. I took Evan to a safety kids day at the park, where they had a fire truck to see. When Evan saw it, all he could say was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;wowwww&lt;/span&gt;...... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;wowwwww&lt;/span&gt;...... &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;wowwww&lt;/span&gt;. In fact, he was so excited he got weak in the knees an had to sit down. It must be nice to be able to get so excited about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;something&lt;/span&gt; so simple. Here's a picture of us:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Ru9UPFuIviI/AAAAAAAAAK4/EAU0I0WF0Zo/s1600-h/DSCN4570+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111396720299261474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Ru9UPFuIviI/AAAAAAAAAK4/EAU0I0WF0Zo/s320/DSCN4570+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-5551452169978388327?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5551452169978388327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5551452169978388327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/09/fire-truck.html' title='Fire Truck'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Ru9UPFuIviI/AAAAAAAAAK4/EAU0I0WF0Zo/s72-c/DSCN4570+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-1475760700729593850</id><published>2007-09-17T21:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T21:27:09.132-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More Weekend Events</title><content type='html'>Another interesting thing thing happened this weekend. Evan loves to play in the pantry, stacking cans, dropping things on the floor, and using his teeth as a can opener. On Saturday morning, as I was working in the kitchen, Evan pulled out a selection of things form the pantry and arranged them on the floor. He looked so cute sitting among them that I took a picture. Only later, when looking at the picture, did I realize that there was something more going on:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Ru9TOVuIvhI/AAAAAAAAAKw/agsAIAst9uk/s1600-h/DSCN4564+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111395607902731794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Ru9TOVuIvhI/AAAAAAAAAKw/agsAIAst9uk/s320/DSCN4564+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you remember the scene in Superman where boy Superman uses his toys to build a model of the universe or something, much to the shock of his adoptive parents? Maybe there was not a scene like that but there should have been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I later realized that Evan had laid out the cans carefully on various flat packets of seasoning mix or whatever, with the stacked items aligned nicely and organized by type. I'm sure it is insignificant, but I think it means Evan is capable of a very high level of thinking for his age. On the other hand, he may just be growing up to be as anal retentive as me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-1475760700729593850?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/1475760700729593850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/1475760700729593850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/09/more-weekend-events.html' title='More Weekend Events'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Ru9TOVuIvhI/AAAAAAAAAKw/agsAIAst9uk/s72-c/DSCN4564+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-7367347651428734248</id><published>2007-09-15T21:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T21:17:29.024-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Self Awareness</title><content type='html'>On Friday, during dinner, I pointed out to Evan that his fork had his name printed on it and that it was &lt;em&gt;his&lt;/em&gt;.  Evan sat and stared at his fork for a while, deep in thought.  For a few weeks, he had already exhibited great interest in the "Evan" that is over his bed in big wooden letters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday, Evan looked at his fork, pointed to his name, and said his name.  Sounds more like "Ow-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;wa&lt;/span&gt;" than Evan but it was clearly what he meant.  I guess it took 24 hours to process but now Evan has proved that he knows he has a name that uniquely identifies him, he knows his name can be represented in a permanent way, he knows how to say his name, and he knows that things can belong to him.  That seems like a big step to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-7367347651428734248?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/7367347651428734248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/7367347651428734248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/09/self-awareness.html' title='Self Awareness'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-6502320574278453130</id><published>2007-09-12T09:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-12T09:54:16.610-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Learning Language</title><content type='html'>As you can see on the left side of the page, Evan is learning more and more words. Of course he understands probably a hundred words or more and can follow directions like "can you please put this outside?" I'm also trying to put words to bodily functions in preparation for potty training. It's clear that he is hearing everything that is being said because he'll pick out words he knows from hundreds in a conversation. Suddenly he'll start saying car and I only realize I've said the word in the midst of a conversation or it's been said on the TV. Still, Evan does have a hard time telling some sounds apart. I was talking to him the other day about tongs (he LOVES playing with cooking tongs) and he kept sticking his tongue out at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next week is going to be a big trip...I'm taking Evan back to Colorado, where I'm hosting a memorial celebration for my mother, who passed away in July. Hopefully, we'll get to spend some time with Evan's buddy, &lt;a href="http://www.goodhappenings.com/"&gt;Jackson&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-6502320574278453130?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6502320574278453130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6502320574278453130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/09/learning-language.html' title='Learning Language'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-6857277675055691332</id><published>2007-08-28T21:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T21:34:58.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'>On Huggies and Haggis</title><content type='html'>Here's a completely random thought.  I am often amused by the words that a spell checker will suggest.  It's especially fun when a suggestion for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;somebody's&lt;/span&gt; name really suits them.  Well, I was sending somebody an e-mail about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Huggies&lt;/span&gt; diapers and "&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haggis"&gt;Haggis&lt;/a&gt;" was suggested as an alternative.  There are days when Evan's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Huggies&lt;/span&gt; do resemble a Haggis.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-6857277675055691332?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6857277675055691332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6857277675055691332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/08/on-huggies-and-haggis.html' title='On Huggies and Haggis'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-4391310639422172952</id><published>2007-08-28T21:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-28T21:29:26.160-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stood Up!</title><content type='html'>No, Evan did not just stand up - he's been doing that for a long time now. &lt;i&gt;We&lt;/i&gt; got stood up - for a date...a &lt;em&gt;play&lt;/em&gt;date. Not only that but this was my, er, Evan's first playdate. It was traumatic, to say the least.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had cleaned up the house, made sure there was a variety of snacks for the kids, set out the martini glasses for the adults, and dressed Evan in his best playdate outfit. We then went out front to wait. We watered the maple trees and waited some more. We watered the front flower bed and waited some more. We watered the grass. Finally, 15 minutes into the one-hour date, I figured C &amp; L (names withheld) were past the normal grace period I would give any busy parent. A phone call confirmed my fear that we had been stood up. Dejected, Evan and I wandered to the back yard, drained the pool, deflated the play castle, and sent the entertainers home. It was really going to be great but I guess we'll never know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a recent picture of Evan, who likes to climb into the cubicle shelves in his room:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RtT1uU2r88I/AAAAAAAAAKo/KJlHjvx07Eo/s1600-h/DSCN4274+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5103974453938484162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RtT1uU2r88I/AAAAAAAAAKo/KJlHjvx07Eo/s320/DSCN4274+(Large).JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-4391310639422172952?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/4391310639422172952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/4391310639422172952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/08/stood-up.html' title='Stood Up!'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RtT1uU2r88I/AAAAAAAAAKo/KJlHjvx07Eo/s72-c/DSCN4274+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-7802440257125439392</id><published>2007-08-06T21:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T21:15:00.318-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe I'm figuring it out</title><content type='html'>Though I had my doubts, I think I may finally be getting this parenting thing figured out.  It seems I'm actually learning how to be a parent and get things done without going crazy.  Case in point is this evening, when I looked at the clock and reflected on all I had done between 3:45, when Evan woke up from his nap, and 8:00, the then current time.  Here's the list:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Got Evan up&lt;br /&gt;- Fed Evan a snack and a few drinks&lt;br /&gt;- Saw out the full drama of the potato chip clip and the pinched finger&lt;br /&gt;- Cooked (not merely heated) dinner for Evan and myself&lt;br /&gt;- Walked the dog&lt;br /&gt;- Watered the garden/lawn&lt;br /&gt;- Washed the car&lt;br /&gt;- Changed two diapers&lt;br /&gt;- Ate dinner with Evan and gave Evan seconds and thirds and fourths&lt;br /&gt;- Did and put away breakfast, lunch, and dinner dishes (all handwashed)&lt;br /&gt;- Made/received a few calls&lt;br /&gt;- Did a bit of work and checked e-mail&lt;br /&gt;- Horsed around with Evan&lt;br /&gt;- Videotaped Evan trying to shoot baskets while wearing flip flops 9 sizes to big&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the ensuing 45 minutes, I&lt;br /&gt;- Took a 15 minute call with relative&lt;br /&gt;- Gave Evan a bath&lt;br /&gt;- Took a shower&lt;br /&gt;- Gave Evan his milk&lt;br /&gt;- Helped Evan brush his teeth&lt;br /&gt;- Put Evan to bed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, parenting keeps one busy but it seems that it does get better with practice.  It used to take me an hour just to get us ready to leave the house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-7802440257125439392?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/7802440257125439392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/7802440257125439392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/08/maybe-im-figuring-it-out.html' title='Maybe I&apos;m figuring it out'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-4129241383952381291</id><published>2007-08-04T16:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-04T16:50:24.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheers!</title><content type='html'>Here's a quick post to let you know things are OK.  I'm back in LA and my father, who spent a week here helping out, has now gone back to Florida.  It's just me and Evan in the house so we're getting some good bonding time.  I promise to post some pictures soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, my father and I generally toast with our drinks before we eat and evidently Evan was watching.  Now he insists on toasting too (with his sippy cup).  He has all the finer points of this ritual down - from making eye contact while toasting to drinking deeply afterwards.  Except that he likes to toast 5 times in a row.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-4129241383952381291?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/4129241383952381291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/4129241383952381291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/08/cheers.html' title='Cheers!'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-9158596458614796692</id><published>2007-07-20T20:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-21T20:50:04.498-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Telephone Talk</title><content type='html'>I really miss Evan now that I've been in Colorado for a week.  My roommate has been great about watching Evan and his daycare provider has been very accommodating - taking Evan for 4 afternoons in addition to his regular morning schedule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My roommate let Evan talk to me on the phone.  Normally this is nothing more than hearing him breathe.  Today, something clicked.  I tried to use some of Evan's new words and he started saying "down" to the dog after I asked him to.  I then told him "bye bye" and he waved, as my roommate reported.  This was a huge step in my mind and it went a long way to making me feel better about being so far away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope to return to LA on Monday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-9158596458614796692?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/9158596458614796692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/9158596458614796692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/07/telephone-talk.html' title='Telephone Talk'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-3481505878584772190</id><published>2007-07-19T20:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-21T20:53:01.615-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grandma</title><content type='html'>On Wednesday morning, Evan lost his Grandma and I lost my mother.  It's been a rough week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been coming out to Colorado on and off all Spring to help my mother manage through a losing battle with metastatic lung cancer, diagnosed at age 70 in May 2006 (over a year ago).  The worst part is that my mother has not smoked for 40 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This disease has no cure and life expectancies are very short - usually 4-6 months from diagnosis, if that.  I did not expect to complete my adoption in time for my mother to become a grandmother, actually, and certainly did not expect to bring Evan for a visit as I did in May (pictures in my earlier post).  Had I let my mother's diagnosis deter me from adopting so soon, my mother and I would not have had these experiences nor met the wonderful son I have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 2 weeks ago, I came out to help my mother move into an intensive care center operated by the &lt;a href="http://www.denverhospice.org"&gt;Denver Hospice&lt;/a&gt; (I am indebted to them for their efforts in letting my mother pass away with great dignity).  Her pain was out of control and needed some attention.  I was able to get her settled in time to return home to LA.  Things proceeded very quickly from there.  It seems that once my mother's pain was being effecitvely managed, she began to let go quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I returned to Denver last Saturday and was able to spend her last few days with her, in the company of my sister and aunt, who also flew in.  I had seriously considered bringing Evan on this trip, to provide life and support as only children can.  In retrospect am glad to have left him in good hands in LA as there has been so much to do here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last I saw my mother alive was Tuesday night.  We left her resting peacefully in her beautiful private room, with the door open to the warm windy Colorado night.  On the bulletin board was a picture Evan had drawn and dedicated to his Grandma.  On the night stand were pictures of her children and grandchild.  Under my mother's arm was her large teddy bear ("Alex"), which she asked to be given to Evan upon her passing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-3481505878584772190?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/3481505878584772190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/3481505878584772190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/07/grandma.html' title='Grandma'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-6579736853256640942</id><published>2007-07-05T16:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-05T17:10:19.876-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This and That</title><content type='html'>The demands of parenthood and work are keeping me from blogging much at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evan had a doctor's appointment last week and checked out fine.  He gained a bit of weight and 1 1/2 inches, so he seems to be doing well.  However, he has been fighting nagging on-and-off tummy troubles for a few weeks and so I have been varying his diet to see what the trigger is.  Lactose is one possible culprit...  The doctor does not seem to be alarmed, which is reassuring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evan is getting very close to talking.  He has used "da da" fairly reliably for some time and he emits "bark" when he hears a dog bark.  Just the other day, he seems to have figured out "down" and "up" as well as what seems to be "mine", which he sometimes says when he grabs things.  Doctor says 6 words by 18 months is what he looks for, so Evan had better hurry up.  Not that I feel any pressure.  Really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evan also went through a brief period of stamping his foot like a princess when he wanted something.  I cannot imagine where he got that...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-6579736853256640942?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6579736853256640942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6579736853256640942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/07/this-and-that.html' title='This and That'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-3755860301022325066</id><published>2007-06-19T22:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-19T22:50:47.635-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Robin Hood?</title><content type='html'>First, Evan loved the Hamburger Helper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second, I have a new job.  The stars aligned and I was offered a new position in IBM that I had interviewed for.  The situation is ideal:  challenging from a career standpoint yet almost entirely work from home.  I'm digging in and excited about working with my new team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, about Robin Hood.  Yesterday, at daycare, Kaya (Evan's girlfriend) was taking Justin's pacifier out of his mouth and using it.  Observing the scene, Evan took went up to Shelby and took Shelby's pacifier out of his mouth and offered it to Justin.  I'm not sure it was exactly justice but it was a valiant attempt.  In case you're wondering, Evan does not use a pacifier himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also the other day, I tried again to get Evan interested in his food.  So I let him feed me.  Funniest thing of all was that he opened his mouth every time I took a bite - just as most parents do when feeding their kids.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-3755860301022325066?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/3755860301022325066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/3755860301022325066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/06/robin-hood.html' title='Robin Hood?'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-5524527150324906811</id><published>2007-06-04T20:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-04T20:58:24.083-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This and That</title><content type='html'>It's been a while since I posted since I've been a bit focused on sorting out my work situation.  Let's just say I'm under a lot of pressure at my company to get myself into a work-from-home role since my previous job of traveling consultant is just not compatible.  Stay tuned for updates on this front...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Evan did a couple of cute things yesterday.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, at breakfast, he showed little interest in the nice bowl of oatmeal I had prepared for him.  He kept pointing to the place where the graham crackers are.  As I was having oatmeal too, I decided to play up how very good it was - with lots of emphatic "mmmmmmmm"s.  Evan eventually concluded that it must be good and proceeded to eat his entire bowl with loud and dramatic "mmmmmmm"s at every bite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, I wanted to take him to the playground (and Home Depot of course).  I looked around and could not find his shoes, a fact I muttered out loud.  Then, from around the sofa comes Evan triumphantly holding one of the shoes I was looking for.  I put it on him and asked him to find the other one.  Evan stood in the living room and slowly pivoted on one foot clearly searching for his other shoe.  It's amazing what kids already understand at this age.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a watershed moment....  Those of you who know me know that I love to cook and pride myself in making things from scratch.  However, the need for convenience has won out:  I bought a box of Hamburger Helper.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-5524527150324906811?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5524527150324906811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5524527150324906811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/06/this-and-that.html' title='This and That'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-840994980611467594</id><published>2007-05-29T22:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T22:39:19.618-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Denver</title><content type='html'>We spent 3 days in Denver visiting Grandma and Jackson, a friend Evan made in Vietnam.  I hit it off with Jackson's parents, whom I had met in Saigon in December.  Adorable Jackson is about 6 months younger than Evan but he holds his own when they interact.  We all went out for Vietnamese food one night.  Here is (left to right) Jackson's mom, Laurie, Jackson, Evan, and myself:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rl0L0AC3iXI/AAAAAAAAAKY/esI_A7E56lo/s1600-h/DSCN3916+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rl0L0AC3iXI/AAAAAAAAAKY/esI_A7E56lo/s320/DSCN3916+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070221743482177906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laurie maintains an awesome blog that puts mine to shame.  Check out her &lt;a href="http://goodhappenings.com/WordPress/?p=204"&gt;blog post&lt;/a&gt; on the adventures of Evan and Jackson in Denver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evan's big acquisition in Denver was a pair of "crocs", which are plastic shoes that sell for something like 100 times their production cost but are nevertheless a rage among kids (especially in "granola" states like Colorado).  These were a gift from Grandma, and Evan was so cute in the shoe store marching up to the mirror and excitedly evaluating the color of croc he was trying on.  He settled on green.  Here is a picture of Evan and Grandma on Grandma's balcony:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rl0MggC3iYI/AAAAAAAAAKg/nNLGrOXwVc0/s1600-h/DSCN3953+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rl0MggC3iYI/AAAAAAAAAKg/nNLGrOXwVc0/s320/DSCN3953+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070222507986356610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the trip home, I did my best to prepare Evan to sleep on the plane home.  He got a good nap so as to not be overtired, he got some play time in, and he had a good meal and big cup of milk.  My best plans did not play out, though, as the excitement of the trip caught up with him and he squirmed the entire flight - struggling to fall asleep.  Thankfully, the adjacent seat was empty and the surrounding passengers friendly.  Evan fell asleep within seconds of getting into his car seat on the ride home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-840994980611467594?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/840994980611467594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/840994980611467594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/05/denver.html' title='Denver'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rl0L0AC3iXI/AAAAAAAAAKY/esI_A7E56lo/s72-c/DSCN3916+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-2895238931334919077</id><published>2007-05-24T08:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-24T13:54:45.217-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Fifth Flight</title><content type='html'>Yesterday was Evan's fifth flight of his life (and first domestic).  I carefully booked a big plane on a less busy day but it was still 100% full.  When we boarded, I eyed the person in the seat in front of me and I just knew, from his Bose noise cancelling headphones and designer sunglasses that he was a recliner.  Sure enough, his seat went all the way back the moment the wheels came up.  This did not give Evan and me much space since 1) the guy in front of me was in my lap and 2) Evan was in my lap and he has  big belly.  To make things worse, my neighbor was beefy, so things were tight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all, the flight was just fine.  Evan ate through all the snacks I brought, read his books, played with his toys, and played with me.  It turned out to be a great one-on-one bonding experience.  Evan was laughing out loud at one game we played and I was just waiting for somebody to complain about Evan being too happy.  My neighboring passengers were quite friendly and patient with Evan's offers of cantaloupe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tagged all my bags and Evan to make sure nothing would get misplaced:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RlX7dQC3iWI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/XTy9j_rxnVM/s1600-h/DSCN3902+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RlX7dQC3iWI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/XTy9j_rxnVM/s320/DSCN3902+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068233435617134946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-2895238931334919077?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/2895238931334919077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/2895238931334919077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/05/fifth-flight.html' title='The Fifth Flight'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RlX7dQC3iWI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/XTy9j_rxnVM/s72-c/DSCN3902+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-1581780914750990627</id><published>2007-05-20T20:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-20T21:03:31.347-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Moms' Club Picnic</title><content type='html'>I took Evan to the Moms' Club picnic today, at Will Rogers State Park near Santa Monica.  The picnic was nice and a great chance to meet other moms in the club I have joined (along with the dads).  I got to see live polo being played for the first time, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evan did just fine but was a bit overwhelmed with the crowd and all there was to see.  He also got two head wounds - one from falling in the dirt and one from a stick (he and another kid  wanted the same stick and it seems Evan lost).  These "wounds" were just scrapes really, and Evan took it all pretty much in stride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My big observation is that as dad member of the Mom's club, I was naturally assigned a "dad" job (grilling).  What did not dawn on me immediately was that all the other dads had a mom around to help watch the kids.  I, on the other hand, was challenged with grilling and watching Evan simultaneously.  So, from now on I need to remember what "hat" I'm wearing in a given situation and make sure I don't get take on too much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-1581780914750990627?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/1581780914750990627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/1581780914750990627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/05/moms-club-picnic.html' title='The Moms&apos; Club Picnic'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-2496828713285538907</id><published>2007-05-18T13:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-18T13:54:35.010-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Teddy Bear Antics</title><content type='html'>Normally I don't blog until the evening but I could not resist.  Evan had a hard time going down for his afternoon nap today so I spent a little time reading (his entire collection of) books sitting in my lap.  His attention span allows for 1-3 minutes per book so it did not take too long.  I then put him in the crib and helped him get settled down.  He took his big bear and propped him up carefully against the side of the crib.  Cool enough, I think.  Then, Evan stood up, did a u-turn and sat down in the bear's lap.  That is one of the cutest things I have seen in a long time.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not want to spoil the moment with a photo, though I suspect it will be repeated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-2496828713285538907?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/2496828713285538907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/2496828713285538907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/05/teddy-bear-antics.html' title='Teddy Bear Antics'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-6838457315586583892</id><published>2007-05-17T20:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-17T20:45:15.042-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Jell-O Meltdown</title><content type='html'>Ok, so Evan is running a little fever today - possibly teething (canines are coming in) or possibly an ear infection or possibly something else.  So, he's been crabby.  But he absolutely perked up (started hopping up and down in his high chair) when I offered Jell-O.  He set to work happily using his spoon and digging it out of the glass it was in (reused baby food jar).  Eventually he got frustrated and started using his fingers.  Then he put his whole hand in.  I started laughing and Evan completely melted down.  Unconsolable.  I thought he had his hand stuck but it came right out.  Evan sobbed and sobbed and only calmed down when I picked him up in his sticky state and held him for a bit.  Either this a part of normal emotional development or Evan has some trauma in his past involving something like Jell-O.  Any ideas?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-6838457315586583892?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6838457315586583892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6838457315586583892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/05/jell-o-meltdown.html' title='The Jell-O Meltdown'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-2878078211884289578</id><published>2007-05-10T15:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-17T22:57:19.509-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Cup</title><content type='html'>I dug through my things in the garage and found the plate, bowl, and cup that I had used as a baby.  Now, 38 years later, Evan can use the same things.  Will they last until he has kids?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rk1ALwC3iVI/AAAAAAAAAKI/owUYudU9-zg/s1600-h/DSCN3886+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rk1ALwC3iVI/AAAAAAAAAKI/owUYudU9-zg/s320/DSCN3886+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065775726481344850" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-2878078211884289578?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/2878078211884289578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/2878078211884289578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/05/my-cup.html' title='My Cup'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rk1ALwC3iVI/AAAAAAAAAKI/owUYudU9-zg/s72-c/DSCN3886+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-293298527254512532</id><published>2007-05-04T20:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-05T21:45:52.099-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Recent Happenings</title><content type='html'>I have not mentioned that I'm breaking new ground.  Earlier this week, I got word that I had been accepted, evidently after a secret vote, in to the Westchester MOMS club - the first dad to be admitted.  It's good to have a truly local network of parents I can get to know, and hopefully more dads will join.  Yesterday, I attended a playground meeting at Sand Dune park in Manhattan Beach.  They have a nice playground and a huge sand dune.  Evan wanted nothing to do with the toddler area so I let him play on the bigger kids' equipment instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When changing Evan yesterday, I tried to calm him down with a song (he's been really restless during diaper changes lately).  To my surprise, as I sung "Itsy Bitsy Spider" (terribly), Evan started with the correct hand gestures.  I guess he has been learning it in day care!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed that Evan's 12 month clothes are getting noticeably tight - so he's definitely growing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At dinner, I offered Evan 2 million Dong (about $140) to eat a piece of arugula but he did not go for it.  A million just isn't what it used to be. I'm not sure Evan really understood my offer anyway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-293298527254512532?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/293298527254512532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/293298527254512532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/05/recent-happenings.html' title='Recent Happenings'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-6853222189180433902</id><published>2007-04-20T18:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-17T22:53:43.631-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cowboy</title><content type='html'>Evan loves his cowboy boots!  I spent half a day trekking across Los Angeles to find them (he needed them for a Western themed party) but it was worth it.  They come up to his knees and they are a bit wobbley but Evan is so proud of himself when he walks in them.  Here's a picture:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rk0_GwC3iUI/AAAAAAAAAKA/9gQYoCW_SsY/s1600-h/DSCN3754+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rk0_GwC3iUI/AAAAAAAAAKA/9gQYoCW_SsY/s320/DSCN3754+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065774541070371138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-6853222189180433902?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6853222189180433902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6853222189180433902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/05/cowboy.html' title='Cowboy'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rk0_GwC3iUI/AAAAAAAAAKA/9gQYoCW_SsY/s72-c/DSCN3754+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-3862892529630487989</id><published>2007-04-09T22:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-17T22:47:01.069-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Big Road Trip</title><content type='html'>We're now back from the big road trip to Northern California (San Francisco Bay, Napa Valley), taken to introduce Evan to some relatives and to reunite him with a roommate from his orphanage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The drive up seemed to be going well.  Evan had been pretty ill the week before (I got thrown up on for the first, second, and third times in my life) so he was tired and used the drive to catch up on his sleep.  As we backed the car into my aunt's driveway in Calistoga, I heard a gurgle and Evan threw everything he had eaten all day into his lap.  Needless to say, it was not exactly the way I wanted to introduce Evan.  I think it was just carsickness, thankfully, an not a relapse of the stomach flu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a picture of my my aunt and uncle with Evan:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rk073gC3iRI/AAAAAAAAAJo/xHDruxmmN7E/s1600-h/IMG_0074+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rk073gC3iRI/AAAAAAAAAJo/xHDruxmmN7E/s320/IMG_0074+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065770980542482706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The highlight of the trip was the reunion with Peter, who spent 10 months with Evan in the same orphanage and who is a few weeks younger than Evan.  Peter's parents and sister had come to California on a visit from Washington, DC.  We met at the park in Sonoma and observed carefully to see if the boys would recognize each other.  Would they do a secret handshake?  Would they talk about their respective parents in Vietnmaese so we could not understand?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I don't think there was any immediate recognition, but there were moments when I caught them staring at each other.  Here's a picture of the boys together:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rk09MwC3iSI/AAAAAAAAAJw/MDFpeTTsWx0/s1600-h/DSCN3579+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rk09MwC3iSI/AAAAAAAAAJw/MDFpeTTsWx0/s320/DSCN3579+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065772445126330658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any case, we had a great time - parents and kids and aunts and uncles and I know the boys can look forward to seeing one another again before long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the trip North went quickly and was spent enjoying walks in the vineyards and visiting another Aunt and Uncle for Easter.  Here's Evan pushing his stroller during one of the walks:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rk09nwC3iTI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/_HJcD8V3cfI/s1600-h/DSCN3564+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rk09nwC3iTI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/_HJcD8V3cfI/s320/DSCN3564+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065772908982798642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-3862892529630487989?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/3862892529630487989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/3862892529630487989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/04/big-road-trip.html' title='The Big Road Trip'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rk073gC3iRI/AAAAAAAAAJo/xHDruxmmN7E/s72-c/IMG_0074+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-8618663482573762812</id><published>2007-02-26T12:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T22:39:44.389-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Daycare</title><content type='html'>As of late February, I've found daycare for Evan.  I started by looking at the centers but was dissuaded by waiting lists a year long - for those places that even take children under two.  Then I tried family day care, where licensed caregivers operate daycare in their homes for a maximum of 5 or 6 kids.  Well, the first place was a disaster, with lots of yelling, a limited area for kids, and a wide range of ages.  While I interviewed the caregiver, a 5 year old kid came running through the house and knocked Evan flat.  Not that Evan really minded (he's experienced at getting knocked down by the dog), but it was clearly not the right place.  The second place I tried, which I learned of through an internet group for West LA parents, was much better.  The caregiver has her entire house (save for her bedroom) dedicated to child care and she focuses on only younger children.  After a test run, it was clear that Evan would fit right in, and I signed him up for M-W-F mornings.  Here is a picture of Evan with his friend John:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGMewzLzJI/AAAAAAAAAJY/yT_rDEyfvDc/s1600-h/Play+pictures+005+(Large).jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGMewzLzJI/AAAAAAAAAJY/yT_rDEyfvDc/s320/Play+pictures+005+(Large).jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057978316637326482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The current daycare schedule works well since Evan naps from 12-3.  This gives me basically 7 hours to work M-W-F and 3 on Tu and Th.  That is more than enough time for me to complete the 16 weekly hours I am committed to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-8618663482573762812?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/8618663482573762812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/8618663482573762812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/02/daycare.html' title='Daycare'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGMewzLzJI/AAAAAAAAAJY/yT_rDEyfvDc/s72-c/Play+pictures+005+(Large).jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-5411112171225639465</id><published>2007-02-25T12:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T22:32:11.250-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Opa!</title><content type='html'>No, we're not about to drink a shot of Ouzo.  Opa means Grandpa in German and my very German dad came to visit in late February to meet his grandson.  As with the previous post, this post is being written from memory in an attempt to keep coninuity with the blog, which has been ignored for a few months.  Evan and Opa got on famously.  Here's a picture of them with Evan modeling an outfit I bought in Vietnam:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGKyAzLzII/AAAAAAAAAJQ/eWZIg6YDMZw/s1600-h/DSCN3256+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGKyAzLzII/AAAAAAAAAJQ/eWZIg6YDMZw/s320/DSCN3256+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057976448326552706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-5411112171225639465?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5411112171225639465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5411112171225639465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/02/opa.html' title='Opa!'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGKyAzLzII/AAAAAAAAAJQ/eWZIg6YDMZw/s72-c/DSCN3256+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-2982189076104102506</id><published>2007-02-24T20:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-05-17T22:30:15.263-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Evan and Lani</title><content type='html'>Here's a picture of Evan and Lani.  Lani is finally, grudgingly, accepting the existence of Evan in the house.  Generally, Lani will still get up and walk away when Evan approaches but Lani is conflicted as she also sees Evan as a source of dropped food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rk050AC3iQI/AAAAAAAAAJg/g57N-Nr578Y/s1600-h/DSCN3298+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rk050AC3iQI/AAAAAAAAAJg/g57N-Nr578Y/s320/DSCN3298+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5065768721389684994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-2982189076104102506?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/2982189076104102506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/2982189076104102506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/02/evan-and-lani.html' title='Evan and Lani'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/Rk050AC3iQI/AAAAAAAAAJg/g57N-Nr578Y/s72-c/DSCN3298+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-5084745337274171231</id><published>2007-02-10T12:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T22:27:46.327-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grandma and Auntie</title><content type='html'>Ok, I admit, I'm writing this post 2 months after it happened but I'm trying to get back into this blog and need to catch you up.  My mom (Grandma) and sister (Auntie) visited at the same time and were here to celebrate Evan's birthday.  Mom stayed a bit longer and was here to join the Luau.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, they were smitten with Evan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a picture of my sister and Evan enjoying some man-made snow at a park in West Hollywood:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGJaAzLzGI/AAAAAAAAAJA/FM0XXR70QSk/s1600-h/DSCN3094+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGJaAzLzGI/AAAAAAAAAJA/FM0XXR70QSk/s320/DSCN3094+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057974936498064482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also went to the beach for the first time.  Evan LOVED playing with the sand, and he only tasted it once.  Here he is with Grandma:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGJhwzLzHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/vVSIAatIYpM/s1600-h/DSCN3164+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGJhwzLzHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/vVSIAatIYpM/s320/DSCN3164+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057975069642050674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, Evan adjusted just fine to whole milk.  Did about a 2-week transition, phasing out the formula and all is well.  What an easy kid!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-5084745337274171231?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5084745337274171231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5084745337274171231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/02/grandma-and-auntie.html' title='Grandma and Auntie'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGJaAzLzGI/AAAAAAAAAJA/FM0XXR70QSk/s72-c/DSCN3094+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-4460029358451076924</id><published>2007-02-08T11:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T22:21:45.953-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday and Stairs</title><content type='html'>Evan celebrated his first birthday on February 7th and had a big Luau (40 guests) last Saturday.  Here's a picture of me helping Evan blow out the candles:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGH4wzLzEI/AAAAAAAAAIw/IRDXZZo0Qq4/s1600-h/DSCN3181+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGH4wzLzEI/AAAAAAAAAIw/IRDXZZo0Qq4/s320/DSCN3181+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057973265755786306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a cake-eating picture from the Luau:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGIGAzLzFI/AAAAAAAAAI4/BR2aw5efU8Q/s1600-h/DSCN3238+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGIGAzLzFI/AAAAAAAAAI4/BR2aw5efU8Q/s320/DSCN3238+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057973493389053010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evan got a pile of gifts despite strict instructions to the contrary, and many remain unopened (mainly because I want him to pace himself).  Evan got to interact with some kids, who attended, and he really played well with Alexander, a boy one month younger.  Looks like there are some play dates in the future.  Evan also got to meet a 5 year-old who was also born in Vietnam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, at a friend's, Evan had a great time clomping around the wooden floor in his somewhat oversized sneakers.  This was the first time he walked in hard soled shoes and I thought he would trip but he did not.  In fact, he was wobbly in his soft soled shoes this morning.  Anyway, he amazed me climbing up and especially down the stairs.  He walked all the way down the stairs carefully holding the rail and taking one step at a time.  I have no idea where Evan would have learned to walk down stairs.   He seems to be skipping the whole stage of going down backwards.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-4460029358451076924?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/4460029358451076924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/4460029358451076924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/02/birthday-and-stairs.html' title='Birthday and Stairs'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGH4wzLzEI/AAAAAAAAAIw/IRDXZZo0Qq4/s72-c/DSCN3181+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-5986463902003158929</id><published>2007-02-01T22:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-01T22:53:24.615-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it fair to feed a child poi?</title><content type='html'>Most adults retch at the throught of eating poi (Hawaiian taro - tastes like glue), but Evan loves it.  It'll be interesting to see what he thinks of it when he gets older.  Other favorite foods are cream of wheat cereal, saltines, goldfish crackers, and bread porridge (recipe from the Guatamalan maid).  Soon will be the big adventure of seeing how Evan does with cow's milk...he's already OK with cottage cheese and yogurt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-5986463902003158929?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5986463902003158929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/5986463902003158929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/02/is-it-fair-to-feed-child-poi.html' title='Is it fair to feed a child poi?'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-2025301115331517147</id><published>2007-01-24T23:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-24T23:04:01.126-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Evan is a Citizen!</title><content type='html'>Evan got his certificate of citizenship today in the mail, so he's officially an American!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-2025301115331517147?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/2025301115331517147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/2025301115331517147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/01/evan-is-citizen.html' title='Evan is a Citizen!'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-1972415572101806152</id><published>2007-01-23T22:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-24T23:07:55.508-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Adoption Doctor and Lab Work</title><content type='html'>Today and yesterday involved lots of checkups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, Evan got his extensive lab work back and all was well. Aside from a slight iron deficiency, all normal. No parasites, either. There are a few tests to go but things are looking good on that front!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a visit to the adoption specialist, who checked out Evan's physical health, his developmental progress, and his adaptation to his new environment. Evan is very much on track and well ahead of what is typical of children from orphanages. The doctor surmised that Evan could have been a favorite of the nannies, which would explain his being on track (I would not be surprised).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're both fighting nasty colds, involving a runny nose, sore throat, and annoying cough.  Evan also had a fever of 102.2 on Monday night and threw up in bed (then giggled and smiled afterwards).  On the bright side, since it's the same cold, I'm able to guess at the symptoms Evan must be feeling even though he cannot tell me directly.  The best consequence of the colds is that I cannot smell Evan's dirty diapers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-1972415572101806152?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/1972415572101806152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/1972415572101806152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/01/adoption-doctor-and-lab-work.html' title='Adoption Doctor and Lab Work'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-2504298055823872898</id><published>2007-01-19T17:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-19T17:27:02.080-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When is it Considered to be Walking?</title><content type='html'>Evan took 47 steps yesterday without help and can stand up without support when asked (verbally and with a hand gesture). Does this count as walking? How many steps does it take to count? I am officially considering him to be walking - shortly after the 11 month mark. Wow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday was a return trip to the lab to get three more vials of blood drawn for the long list of tests he is getting. It's not over as there are still titres needed to test his immunizations - but that will wait. He protested a bit this time but we finished without any major disasters (like him pulling the needle out or something).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was a run to the lab again, with four carefully packed specimens for other tests. Basically, we want to rule out any parasites or other nasties.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The latest cool thing Evan is doing is pretending to talk on the phone. All it takes is looking at him and saying "Hello?" and he'll put whatever item is in his hand up to his ear and listen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-2504298055823872898?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/2504298055823872898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/2504298055823872898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/01/when-is-it-considered-walking.html' title='When is it Considered to be Walking?'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-6763647395320618459</id><published>2007-01-13T12:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-19T17:26:13.906-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Colds and Hugs</title><content type='html'>I got Evan's cold and now have a sore throat.  If Evan has the same symptoms, then he's awfully chipper considering.  He really likes to hug or so it seems.  Sometimes afterwards, I realize he was just wiping his nose on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He took 17 steps yesterday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-6763647395320618459?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6763647395320618459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/6763647395320618459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/01/colds-and-hugs.html' title='Colds and Hugs'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-4827528227980804684</id><published>2007-01-10T22:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-11T13:54:39.666-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bodily Fluids</title><content type='html'>Evan's nose is running freely today and he's drooling like a St. Bernard.  So, besides teeting and having a little cold, he's actually pretty content.  He hates to get his nose wiped though but it's, let's say, very necessary after he sneezes.  Still, no fever so I'll let it run its course.  His nose really gurgles when he feeds and sleeps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The nurse from the lab called and said they had forgotten to draw blood for one set of tests yesterday.  Hopefully Evan will be as good the second time around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evan linked together 6 steps today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and while I held him in preparation for his last bottle of the day, he chomped down all eight teeth on my left pectoral.  If it weren't for the protection of my t-shirt, I would definitely have a nice hickey around my nipple.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-4827528227980804684?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/4827528227980804684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/4827528227980804684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/01/bodily-fluids.html' title='Bodily Fluids'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-7393069388867116332</id><published>2007-01-09T12:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T22:13:35.867-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To the Doctor</title><content type='html'>Took Evan to the pediatrician today for a consultation and to get the ball rolling with some lab work I knew would be needed.  The visit went well...the pediatrician was really impressed with Evan's mobility and verbalization, which I take as a good sign.  We decided order up some blood tests for lead, iron, and all the rest of the standard tests.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15 minutes later, we were at the lab.  I was sweating but Evan was calm.  I nearly fainted when the nurse inserted the needle into the vein in Evan's hand but Evan was unconcerned - only troubled by the fact the he could not climb out of my lap to play.  One big vial later, it was over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a picture of Evan's bandaged hand:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGGYQzLzCI/AAAAAAAAAIg/SbK2hvXWt98/s1600-h/DSCN3015+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGGYQzLzCI/AAAAAAAAAIg/SbK2hvXWt98/s320/DSCN3015+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057971607898410018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-7393069388867116332?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/7393069388867116332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/7393069388867116332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/01/to-doctor.html' title='To the Doctor'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGGYQzLzCI/AAAAAAAAAIg/SbK2hvXWt98/s72-c/DSCN3015+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5626451925009886401.post-7626839415267904739</id><published>2007-01-08T12:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-04-26T22:17:02.358-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Settling In</title><content type='html'>This is the first post in what will be the ongoing blog for Evan.  I'll try to post often as possible but no promises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you recall from my other blog, &lt;a href="http://latohanoi.blogspot.com"&gt;LA to Hanoi&lt;/a&gt; we arrived back in the U.S. on December 23.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGGCgzLzBI/AAAAAAAAAIY/4bsJfki2oH0/s1600-h/DSCN2946+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGGCgzLzBI/AAAAAAAAAIY/4bsJfki2oH0/s320/DSCN2946+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057971234236255250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evan has adapted really well.  He seems to like the new crib and, aside from two trying nights, has been sleeping all night with nothing more than a few brief cries.  He also took well to American formula (Nestle Good Start), which was a relief since I know one of his peers from the same orphanage had a hard time finding something tolerable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evan stood on his own for 10 seconds about a week after coming home and now he can stand until he gets bored.  Just the other day, he learned to push himself up to a stand, without support.  He pushes backwards into a deep squat then stands up.  He's also put together up to 5 steps in sequence, and he's getting good at his emergency landings, too.  Wow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGHNwzLzDI/AAAAAAAAAIo/-KXH0XuthNI/s1600-h/DSCN2984+(Large).JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGHNwzLzDI/AAAAAAAAAIo/-KXH0XuthNI/s320/DSCN2984+(Large).JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057972527021411378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5626451925009886401-7626839415267904739?l=life-of-evan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/7626839415267904739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5626451925009886401/posts/default/7626839415267904739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://life-of-evan.blogspot.com/2007/01/settling-in.html' title='Settling In'/><author><name>Mark</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00812917826842617885</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_bR03bAAu5XU/RjGGCgzLzBI/AAAAAAAAAIY/4bsJfki2oH0/s72-c/DSCN2946+(Large).JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry></feed>
