Launch

Rowan has been running through the bedtime routine with a highly masculine doll.  First he forces it to guzzle water.

Then he sings the ABCs.  Aside from sounding drunk over W and X (dubba-ets!), he's pretty much ready for middle school.

Then he launches the baby into the crib and cries for me or Julie to come extract the baby from the crib so he can start the routine again.  And again.  And again.

Speaking of launch:

Cousin Ava had her birthday party at a gymnastics place.  That's a pit of E. Coli foam cubes that allow you to practice your flips without becoming a quadriplegic.  That's Ava in the purple bow, and that's Lyla's head of braids toward the bottom.  And that lounging lothario is Rowan, four seconds after I chucked him in from the side.  Find a video on Facebook of another time I propelled him into the pit.  I'm definitely going to be sore tomorrow.

Maybe I'll ask Rowan to put me to bed.