Stewie

So I've been called a lot of things in my few short year here on earth. Some of my favorites include (but are not limited to):

Brig, Briggie, Mr. Brigglesworth, little Potlicker, Goldie Hawn, The Golden Child, and El Dorado.

Then of course there are the animals: Growly Bear, Monkey, Bug, Brigasaurous, and the Golden Bear.

My personal favorite is a picker that my uncle Aaron and my Dad came up with for me the other day. It is simple, yet elegant.
"E".
Note that it must be read "Big E", as in the shorthand symbol in physics for entropy. I earn that one everyday.

For all of you out there thinking of making a new nickname, either for me or some other dashing fellow you love dearly, let me tell you the secret. It's rather simple but very effective. It is this: the nickname must be twice removed from the subject. For instance. I poop in my pants. Calling me "Poopee pants" is neither cool nor funny. In fact it's just plain rude. But if you remove it once more, you might come up with, "Yessirree" as in 'Does a growly bear poop in the woods?" "Yessirree" Man I'd answer to that any day of the week. Try it out a few times, it works.

Lately Dad's friends have made an interesting observation. My head is shaped like a football. Now that is pretty cool I guess and since I am so blond and command a vast army of fellow pre-toddlers then I guess the immediate comparison to Stewie from the Family Guy is a bit merited.




I am having a wonderful time. I miss my Grandmas. And I really miss my cousins. When I was back in Utah to hang with Grandma B last month, I saw all these big kids like Max, Sophie, Ellie and Savannah running around and I couldn't believe how cool they were. So I figured out real quick that if I was going to keep up with them I'd better start walking too. Now my parents can't get me to sit down. I'm a walkincornfoolio.



Last weekend we went to San Antone. My other cool cousin Blake was in town with his folks so we went down and played in sand boxes at the VOQ and walked around in strollers at the shopping center. We ate Chipotle with Uncle Josh and because my dad schedules things like he remembers the FAAs rules of flying, we missed the Miss America pageant (he says he's still sorry about that Cheryl). Which, by the way, is ok by me, cause girls have cooties. They're traveling today so I hope they make it back home to Pheonix ok.

I think that's about all. Today my mom was cleaning the car out from top to bottom so I spent pretty much the entire afternoon outside in the back yard. I am dirty. I discovered everything there is to know about a back yard. Like ceramic pots shatter, you can indeed get ants in your pants, power tools are a boys best friend and garage doors work on a simple concept of keyed transmissions of infrared information being sent through space and time from one simple remote contraption to the receiver unit which in turn activates the switch closing to conduct electrical current through a coil, which is layman's terms is a simple electric motor, causing said motor to induce the mechanical action of a screw drive attached to a gear driven chain which lowers and raises the garage door. It's really sweet you push the button, the door makes a noise. Mom comes running, she leaves, you wait and then do it all over again. It's a great game.



Today was also kind of sad. President Hinckley was buried in Salt Lake City. He was a great man and an asset the world has ever scarcely had. I know he's cool with where he's at and his wife and mom are glad to have him back, but we really miss him here. May God bless you just like you have us. I fold my arms and mommy and daddy pray for him every night. We love and miss him.