Some girls just can't keep their hands off me. When I close my eyes, sometimes I'll have flashbacks of Aurora's sneaky hand reaching out to stroke my hair. I wasn't sure whether to be offended or impressed by her playful ways.

Mad rattling skills. I had been searching for an answer contained in her carseat buckle. When all of a sudden, the girl unleashed this rattle. She belted out the type of song that made me and Bella wonder if Aurora'd been practicing for years.

The unidentifiable ringtone. If there's a pink heart sticker on the cellphone, it must not belong to me. But that won't stop me from claiming it as my own anyway. Perhaps, I'll win Bella's heart if she thinks I'm taking a very important call from my beautician in the next room.

That's a wrap! This isn't what I meant when I asked my friends if they'd like to check out my crib sometime. So I gave in and agreed to one unbearably predictable and cute group shots. But once Lucas excused himself from the crib, I realized that I was surrounded by girls. And the nerve of them: they were having a good time. Those silly girls!

My history on the lake. As a method of sunscreen, my mom used to nestle me under her camisole during boat-rides on the lake. It's crazy to think that I'd have to wait until the following Memorial Day before I'd get my wish to bask in the sunshine on this wonderous body of water.

Float on! Oh, what a fantastic Memorial Day it was! It's not every day that I can sport a Speedo and not be judged for it.

En route to the pursuit of Madame Baby-head. Oh, I see: you're running a little late for your hot date with the cat. Better get a move on, boy.

Clothes don't always make the man. Even the jazzy hat isn't doing you justice. Some girls, like this prissy cat, enjoy the chase. She can spot that heart of yours on your sleeve from a room away. So you figured you would go sleeveless this time. It doesn't always work that way, Bunnies.

Back to square one. She'll come around. Just chill out a little bit about it. Go on with your daily routine, and try your best to ignore the fact that she is a moving stuffed animal.

Ready for a close-up. Just when you thought it was ok to retire the old white snowsuit and blankie-scarf, Mt. Leconte is there to prove you wrong. This was taken moments before we made it to one of Isaac's great uncle Sam's (final) resting spots. You can tell he feels privileged to be here on this occasion.

What a snazzy group shot! From left, we've got cousin Alan, aunt Catherine, uncle Jason, cousin Heath, great aunt Sylvia, my mother, me (looking coy in another direction), my daddy, and Grandpa.

Taking the rough with the smooth. "So, you nurse in caves often?" just seems appropriate and humorous for this picture. Whether this line was actually used...nah.

The caboose by choice. If you think Grandpa was in the back of the line because he's a slow-poke, guess again. We have photographs to prove that the only reason he lagged behind was to pose for the camera. It can be challenging to model and hike at the same time.

Out from the trees and into my heart. You are privy to the details of our great adventure. The USB cable is in, and the Mt. LeConte photographs will trickle in slowly. Enjoy the creative process. It can be served with hummus and carrots. Buon appetito!

Well-groomed little man. Someday maybe I'll look as beautiful as my papa or one of those wooly magnetic shaving illustrations. For now, I'll just enjoy the rich flavor of purple wildflowers and my mama's odd sense of humor.

Top of the world. It's ok: go ahead and sing some Carpenters with us. (Please ignore the highlighted search engine words... What, you thought we actually carried this song around in our heads for special occasions like Mother's Day?)

Such a feelin's comin' over me
There is wonder in 'most ev'ry thing I see
Not a cloud in the sky, got the sun in my eyes
And I won't be surprised if it's a dream

Everything I want the world to be
Is now comin' true especially for me
And the reason is clear, it's because you are here
You're the nearest thing to heaven that I've seen

I'm on the top of the world lookin' down on creation
And the only explanation I can find
Is the love that I've found ever since you've been around
Your love's put me at the top of the world

Back by popular demand. Spiky is beautiful. Thanks for showing us the light on a daily basis, sweet boy. And we appreciate your carrying us up and down that mountain. Mt. Leconte picts will be posted whenever the USB cable arrives. (Thanks, Dad.)

Royal treatment for the guest of honor. On Friday, the queen of Chattanooga (Ava Leigh) graced Sir Isaac with her warm presence. There was some question in Isaac's mind whether she was a baby-doll or a real-life cousin of his. So like any man of reason, he relied on the palpation of the cheek method to determine her existence.

Fancy footwork. And then, with the aid of his grandmother and a hot little camera case, Isaac was ready to perform a jig for Ava. She told him to quit showing off.

Haute couture goes to the playground. Who are these fashionistas? Better yet, who is the designer of these pale gingham rick-rack trimmed alphabet buttoned pieces? There has been some speculation that these are from their grandmother's '06 spring collection. Très chic!

Gratuitous photographs of beauty standing still but holding tightly. Mother's Day came earlier than expected this year in Nashville because of our plan to hike the ever-talked about Mount LeConte on Sunday. Mommy got the major hook-up with music and fonts. Her favorites are those that resemble cursive or those cheesy type-writer knock-offs. Not that my images need any text to bring voices to them. My face is expressive enough. Sometimes she just feels this need to paraphrase me: I don't know why.

How ya like me now? Sometimes you just gotta take a stand against the afternoon nap agenda. After a little playful grovelling, don't worry, you'll get your release.

Daddy, you're a star. Such a fine percussionist you are. Thank you for sharing your artistry with me. There's a monsoon outside my bedroom window. Looking forward to seeing you when I wake up.

Requesting an encore. You remember the time when you took me down to the river and sang this ridiculously campy song about how I'm the most beautiful boy in the world? I think I was sleeping. Would you mind singing it again?

My life in the nudist colony. I decided to join an outdoor bathing society a few weeks ago. Looking back on those days, I realize that I must have been the only one who attended without any clothes on. It was quite a liberating experience. But at some point, the director of the event decided that I'd had enough freedom, and made me put my underpants back on. And she also had some issues with my inner solitary contest to stuff as much grass in my mouth as humanly possible before she would promptly remove me from the premises.

Dancing in thin air. On cinco de mayo, Isaac had a date in the park with Miss Aurora. They shared a few fast-paced dance moves by swingset. They were not always in sync with one another, but it was a gleeful afternoon, for sure.

Inside the basket of whimsy. On nights when the discotheque is closed, I like to participate in a most fascinating ritual that involves a plastic basket that is filled with a floral-aromatic blend of my beloved onesies and spit-up rags. Good times to be relished by all!

Going transroomal. As a result of Isaac's unbridled passion for stereo equipment and the captivating draw of the fireplace, Mrs. Baby-head had no choice but to put her paw down. While Isaac was busy venturing from one room to another, Baby-head took it upon herself to do a little baby-proofing.

Yesterday started out on a good note. I made my way to Daddy's bongo, explored my musical range. But then, something startled me. Suddenly, my creative genius came to a screeching hault. I had to do some back-tracking to check out what the problem was.

Stop making that sound! I shouted at the red object. It appeared to be a mechanical ant-eater. What was it doing in my parents' bedroom? We don't even have an ant problem. I had to think fast.

You've been warned. "I'll get you, sucka!" is a translation of something I recall saying to the mean red machine. After a great battle of volume and wits, the vacuum cleaner realized that I was not one to back down. He eventually retreated to the closet from whence he came.