I am a WMD!

We appear to have created a pimp daddy. Is it ok to call our baby that? OK, well, a little guy who is very popular with the ladies. I think we need to take a camera to the pediatrician's office because by the time he gets called in from the waiting room, Gabe has a small fan club of little old lady admirers lined up in the waiting room chairs. When we went there for Gabe's second weigh-in and were checking in, I said to the receptionist, "He's always so popular in the waiting room." And she asked, "Your husband or your son?" I laughed and told her my son. Apparently we're not supposed to make Dr. appointments on Fridays, because the little old ladies are all at Bingo that day.

Gosh, we've already turned into those annoying parents who think their kid is the cutest thing ever. But it's not us, it's the little old ladies who think he's cute! I think Gabe looks like Ben, but there's always hope. :)

Captain's log: supplemental. Slave obedience continues to be a trial. Note to self: next time, visit a planet with intelligent life, or at least one without "the Jersey Shore". Despite my clear instructions otherwise, my minions continue to take my clothes off and put me on "the scale".  Today I decided to take some corrective action.

At the doctor's Gabe peed on the scale while he was being weighed in the buff. I said, "Oh, that's the first time that happened!" I meant it was the first time it happened to me. It was certainly not the first time scale-peeing happened in the ped's office. Maybe Gabe just did it because Ben did it first.

The projectile attack was significantly more deadly than I first thought.  Once the slaves recovered all of my ammunition, they sealed it in a "biohazard" bag.  Clearly my urine contains some kind of corrosive or toxic powers that can destroy worlds.  I should have seen this earlier: I am a WMD!

I think Gabe was demonstrating his dissatisfaction at the humiliation we earthlings subject him to. The humiliation to which we earthlings subject him, I mean. Grammar is hard! They gave us his diaper to take home in a biohazard bag, a picture of which appears below. It was kind of entertaining! Warning: WMD! Toxic waste!

While we were waiting for the doctor I told Ben we should all strip, and then when the doctor comes in, say we weren't sure who needed to strip for the exam. I clearly need to get more sleep.