Space-Time Continuum All Screwed Up

Reading some of our recent blog posts, I realized that Ian appears to be warping the space-time continuum slightly. This is not at all surprising: Elaine is forced to sleep in 90-minute dozelets, and my working-playing with Ian-fixing up the house/nesting routine has me completely confused.
So, let me set the timeline straight:
7/16/08 - Elaine's parents show up.
7/17/08 - Ian Jonas McVey born, showing that Elaine's parents are either psychic, or sufficiently disturbing to Elaine's mood as to induce labor.
7/22/08 - AUNT JULIE ARRIVES! She is my sister. She brought my parents in tow. It occurs to me that I probably should have mentioned this by now, but my lack of access to the Macintosh have altered my space-time awareness. Aunt Julie's arrival could have also triggered a singularity in the vicinity of our house. You see, my parents and Elaine's parents and Elaine and I were all very pleased by Ian's arrival. However, Aunt Julie was positively apoplectic about it. On a scale of 1-10, if my excitement was 10, Julie's was about 6.02X10^23.
So, in honor of this important event in Ian's childhood, here is a short Julie photo spread:

Aunt Julie and my parents arriving. My parents are waving, Aunt Julie is making a beeline for the door.


Aunt Julie, demonstrating grace and poise at the prospect of having her picture taken.


AHHHHHHH! Aunt Julie finally gets her Ian fix.


Aunt Julie is greeted by her other nieces.


Aunt Julie, chasing the dragon again.


I'm telling you, she's so attached to this child that she's going to have to enter a 12-step program when she has to go home again. Or maybe we can give her Ian as a parting gift. On the other hand, I have grown rather fond of the little tike, and Aunt Julie spent many years on many a family vacation encroaching on MY SIDE OF THE SEAT and then telling my parents I was responsible for the bruises that I may or may not have inflicted as the necessary and customary response to such turfal violations. So there. Julie can't have him. He's ALL OURS. See? See? You can't have him! Hey - wait - MOM! DAD! She's holding MY BABY! Tell her she has to stay on her side of the Eastern Seaboard. She started it! Honest!

On a more serious note, I would like to take this opportunity to thank Aunt Julie for all her help. My parents left last Friday, but she is staying another whole week just to help out with Ian, not to mention housework. She has cooked, she has cleaned, she has changed many a diaper, she has helped care for our (temporarily) invalid pit bull. So, thanks, sis. I appreciate it. So does Ian. You can tell by the way he vomits all over you. (It IS vomit. Everyone says "spit up," like it's really quite pleasant and cute. And because it's all milk. Purity of vomit doesn't make it not-vomit. As a counterexample, suppose that I consume nothing but a 12-pack of beer...)

-Doug