In which the saga of R-Pod continues—and the saga of Z-Bear begins
Dad keeps giving me Mohawks.
It's getting a little out of control ...
... but it doesn't stop me from sleep-smiling.
I'm working on my awake smiling too.
It is serious business.
Dad has no respect for serious business. He puts hippos on me whenever he feels like it.
Really!
Riley taught me the letter E.
Dad finally took out his magic Umbrella of Light to take my picture.
I had other plans, though. ZzzzzzZzzzzzz ...
Riley's friend Osa was much more cooperative.
En garde!
I, Z-Bear, am working on my fencing pose.
It is both amusing and developmentally correct for my age.
If I had a foil, you'd be in a world of trouble right now.
The hospital was surprisingly nice, but I find this place much more comfy.
ZzzzzzZzzzzzz ...
ZzzzzzzzzZzzzzzzz ...
En garde!
ZzzzzzzZzzzzzz ...
(Yes, this is pretty much what I do. I'm five days old.)
When I do wake up, dad gives me mohawks.
I AM GOING TO GET HIM!