It must be the shirts

Sorry Aunt Tory. I know the shirts you sent Cap'n Quinn are nice. And I know he loves them -- especially the one that says "#1 Minnesota Twins Fan."

Except there's a problem. They make him puke.

Well, at least two out of the four he's worn so far. And there's still one that says "Oh poop" that he hasn't tried yet. That'll make it come out the other end, I suppose. Which is more natural.

Ok, I'll confess. It has nothing to do with Aunt Tory's shirts. They're lovely.

Daddy is the bad guy here. Joined by the over-abundance of carrots and peaches that he fed our our little man the past two days. Apparently Daddy figures the good Cap'n has the same appetite he does. Except he doesn't. Which is why Daddy spent his Saturday night cleaning up an newly-orange chez lounge chair.

Otherwise it's been a good week for Cap'n Quinn. He seems to be over his big bad ear infections. And he was great entertainment for Daddy, as can be seen in the picture above, when he got sick with a big bad cold.

And today we took Dexie the Wonderdog on a nice long walk.

Right before he puked.

To put it all right for Aunt Tory -- one of Daddy's dearest college friends -- here's a collection of pictures featuring our little hero in several of her wonderful shirts:

Home to battle the bug

Cap'n Quinn has successfully invaded the north, only to return wounded, a victim of the region's most dangerous weapon -- its cool weather.

In other words, Quinn had a great time meeting Daddy's side of the family in Minnesota and North Dakota. But he came back with a chest cold and ear infections. He's a tough little fella, though, and he's handling it like a pro.

Our trip north was a great expedition.

We flew two hours on an airplane. Quinn slept.

We drove five hours to North Dakota. Quinn slept.

We did both of those things again. Quinn slept.

Quinn got baptized. OK, he didn't sleep for this one. Probably because it was a nice, private ceremony in Garrison at Shepherd of the Lake Lutheran Church -- nice both for its poignancy and its brevity. He wore the same christening gown worn more than a century ago by a grandfather on Mommy's side of the family. It looked like big, long, baby wedding dress. But it wasn't, so we'll call it a gown.

Quinn got to meet his Great-grandma Sack in Inkster, N.D., and also see where Daddy went to school at the University of North Dakota. He also got kicked out of his first bar (slash restaurant) -- not that that's ever happened to Daddy (cough, cough) -- in Grand Forks, N.D., though that was due to some jerk of a restaurant employee quibbling over the details of some new state law affecting minors in places that serve booze.

While all that was fun, minus the getting kicked-out part, the most important part of the trip was meeting with Daddy's family -- especially Uncle Ken, Auntie Tara and Auntie Toni. While he had already spent time with Grandma and Grandpa Siemers, he hadn't met Daddy's brother and sisters yet. That doesn't mean, however, that spending time with Grammy and Grandpa wasn't great. They were pretty impressed with his cuteness skills when he was a few weeks old -- now they're charter members of the Cap'n Quinn Fan Club.

To commemorate the trip, here' s a collection of pictures to enjoy.

Hangin' with Daddy at UND's Ralph Engelstad Arena:













Meeting Uncle Wayne (Daddy's old college roommate) and Auntie Christina in Grand Forks:













Getting baptized:













Getting some love from Auntie Toni:












Proud Godparents, Auntie Tara and Uncle Hal:











Liking the view from over Uncle Ken's shoulder:












Getting inspected by the DeShaw family:











My Grandma taking care of me:

Invading the north

We're off to Grandma and Grandpa Siemers' house tomorrow. And we're way more excited than Cap'n Quinn looks in the picture to the right.

Mommy and Daddy are hoping our wee hero can sit still or, better yet, sleep for the entire two-hour flight. That would be nice. It will be even nicer once we get there and don't have to worry about it any more.

Speaking of sleep, Mommy and Daddy are finding it immeasurably cute that Cap'n Quinn now prefers to sleep on his side. He's even getting used to sleeping on his tummy, though it always makes him cry for a few seconds. Now, once we've rocked him to sleep, he kicks his legs when we let him down into the crib and almost immediately rolls to his left.

For some reason, it's adorable. Sorta like everything else he does.

We've got a fever

Someday even Cap'n Quinn might feel the fever that is running through Daddy's veins so strongly that he tried to put a man-sized hat on a baby-sized head.

It was, at least, one of Daddy's Minnesota Twins ballcaps. Which should explain which kind of fever we're referring to -- the baseball fever.

You can see by the wee captain's picture to the right that he shares Daddy's excitement over the Twins this season. The World's Greatest Sports Franchise in History, as the team is referred to in the Siemers household, may struggle in a increasingly tough American League Central Division, but Cap'n Quinn and Daddy are hopeful that Joe Mauer, Justin Morneau and Michael Cuddyer can make it to the World Series.

After all, what a great 11.5 month birthday present than to send our mighty hero a world championship?

There are still a few questions coming into the season: 1) Will any of the veteran free-agent pitchers prove to be smart signings? 2) How soon will the Twins need to call prospects Matt Garza and Alexi Casilla from AAA Rochester? 3) Can Quinn get any cuter?

I can answer #3 with a definitive, "Yes."

Mommy took the wee smiling one to a local Sears for another round of snapshots this week. Naturally, the results were astounding. He's a little showman already.

We'll leave you with a sampling which we'll call, "The cutest baby on the planet." :

"Show me that smile again ..."

It's terribly unfortunate that every time the phrase "growing pains" pops into my head, so does Alan Thicke and that horrible television theme song.

"As long as we've got each other..."

Ugh.

So, unfortunately, I'm here thinking about growing pains yet again. Minus the Kirk Cameron.

Our wee Cap'n Quinn enjoys kicking when we try putting him to sleep, as if he had been tied inside a potato sack and thrown into the East Rivuh for double crossin' Mistah Capone.

We have no logical answer to this, other than to chalk it up to growing pains, whatever they may be. It makes perfect sense, I suppose, that he would continue growing at a rapid pace -- off the charts, remember -- and that doing so would bring with it some element of pain.

Yet it still baffles us that he sees fit to try out for the swim team at the precise moments when peace and tranquility are on the menu. This, much like anything else, is at its most annoying at, say, 2 a.m., when Daddy's too tired to put up much of a fight. This leads to Quinn camping out on Daddy's chest until the thunderkicks return.

Hopefully he'll work his way through this phase in short order.

Otherwise, we might have to put in a call to Mike Seaver.

"We've got each other ... sharing the laughter in love."

Today's picture is called, "I hate Growing Pains, too.":

Little porkchop eats applesauce

The great entertainer

Grandma and Grandpa Siemers still enjoy telling the tale of Daddy the entertainer, holding court in the family living room as he portrayed "Stone Erik," a man frozen, for no apparent reason, in the pose of an Egyptian.

Yes, Daddy enjoyed putting on a show. It looks like the good Cap'n Quinn isn't far behind his old man.

This morning we sat at a restaurant with Uncle Marty. Our little hero mostly slept. But when he awoke, he let his presence be known with a chorus of glass-crackling squeaks. If the sound had come from anywhere other than a baby, the series of grandmas and grandpas that sat around us probably wouldn't have found it so adorable. But they did, cooing their own approval -- a reaction just short of our little man's first standing ovation.

Today, Quinn got his first high chair. This, of course, comes because Quinn is already eating cereal off a spoon. It's as if -- as The Who once said -- he was born with a plastic spoon in his mouth. It's the Good Doctor that gave Mommy and Daddy the go-ahead to proceed with foods that aren't -- at least entirely -- liquefied.

It was also the Good Doctor who informed us that Quinn is, and I'll quote, "off the charts" for his height at this age.

That's right. "Off the charts." They don't just make those charts for no reason. That means most kids are on the charts, which is admirable, I'm sure. We're not on the charts. We're "off the charts," as in above it, better than the rest, growing like a weed, getting ready to sign that NBA contract.

Ok, so my reaction might also be considered "off the charts." Clearly, though, we're not the only ones rooting for the good Cap'n.

There was a whole restaurant of grandmas who might buy his record.

And that, most definitely, is "off the charts."

Today's pictures I call, "My doggy loves me" and "Full steam ahead." :

The lovin' spoonfulls

Super powers

Spiderman's Uncle Ben once said, "With great power comes great responsibility."

It's so true. Especially when your power is extreme cuteness.

Today, for example, Daddy and Cap'n Quinn stopped into a local hot dog shop to get lunch for Mommy. His Cuteness' arrival at the counter was enough to force all the nice Spanish-speaking ladies to cease grilling hot dogs in order to come and coo.

In otherwords, his power of cuteness temporarily stopped operations at a hot dog stand.

Powerful stuff.

Meanwhile, back at our not-so-secret lair (also referred to as either the New Mexico Branch of the Siemers Family, or the West Side Annex of the Albuquerque Smith Clan -- whichever), Daddy's college buddy Marty came by to visit. Uncle Marty's not one to gush, but we have a feeling the good captain's cuteness powers left an impact.

Marty, one of Daddy's collection of airline pilot friends -- you know the airline pilot friends, right? -- was able to tame the not-so-wild Dexie the Wonderdog by getting her to walk calmly by his side as we took Quinn for a stroll this morning.

Quinn and I are thinking Uncle Marty's got some powers of his own.

That's fine. So long as he and the good cap'n remembers to be responsible. Otherwise that hot dog shop might just go out of business.

Today's pictures I call, "Cuteness Volume 1":

A good weekend

After a rough couple of weeks, the good Cap'n Quinn had a grand slam of a weekend. (It's baseball season, so bear with me.)

Two days with long naps, scream-less car trips, full nights of sleep, and a very low-stress Daddy.

We even took Dexie the Wonderdog for a walk today. That's something Daddy thought would never happen, but mostly because Dexie's a spaz who is likely to get herself tangled.

To commemorate the fine weekend, here are a few photos and a video. They'll be easy to enjoy.

Like a Twins double-header.











"Daddy, thanks for the edible Jumperoo. Mine tastes like orange!"











"This using your hands business is easy. Next week I'll be doing my own taxes."

You shooda seen da udder guy

Now, let's begin by saying Daddy is normally a mild-mannered fellow. Gentle, if a little clumsy. But mild-mannered would be an appropriate description.

So when Mommy and Daddy went to pick-up the wee Cap'n Quinn from daycare last week only to find that our little hero had gotten his first shiner, a whole new range of emotions began to emerge.

It took a little while -- say an hour or so -- but a source of nearly irrational anger began to well up in Daddy.

But first, the back story.

Apparently for a few hours in the morning, the daycare mixes toddlers and infants until their full staff arrives. During this period, one of the walking toddlers dropped a square-shaped plastic toy on Quinn's head.

A few points of observation: I fully realize that when you put a bunch of toddlers in a room, accidents are prone to happen. But Quinn's immobile and, therefore, should have been moved out of harm's way. Instead, he was on a bouncer that sat on the floor. This is no different from me leaving Quinn on a playmat on the floor as Dexie the Wonderdog mercilessly chased her magical rubber ball across the house. The same dangers exist. Mommy and Daddy, however, are smart enough to realize that Quinn should be placed at some distance away from those dangers.

All of this, naturally, was repeated with a moderate level of repressed anger back to the daycare's manager the following Monday. Hearing this, she nodded her head, agreed with everything I said, and might have even handed me the keys to the shop, her house and her car had I asked for it. Which I didn't, but maybe I should have.

Once we got over that, part two of a difficult week came Wednesday night, when Quinn woke up every 20 minutes. Daddy stayed home from work Thursday to help Mommy, who hadn't gotten a wink of sleep that night. The Good Doctor told us the next day that nothing is wrong, Quinn's healthy, and weighs somewhere in the realm of 13 pounds, though it's hard to say for exactly since he was wearing about 15 layers of clothes that day.

The problem, the Good Doctor surmised, is Quinn -- who Mommy and Daddy rock to sleep -- is now of an age to recognize that we're not there when he wakes up.

The solution to this is painful -- let him cry, the Good Doctor said.

So we did it that night. For an hour that was more agonizing for Mommy since Daddy slept through most of it. (Not for lack of caring, I assure you. I was just tired. Mommy would have left me to cry myself to sleep, too.)

So far, it's helped. The next time Quinn woke up that night, he cried for only about 15 minutes. Tonight -- yes, it's late -- he's gotten up once, been fed, and went right back to sleep.

As for Daddy, well, he's back to his mild-mannered self again. He'll get his sleep some other day.

Like when Quinn's in his 20s. Or separated from the toddlers. Whichever comes first.

Playmat Pooper

We at the west coast Siemers annex call it the playmat poop. What is this "playmat poop" you say? It seems whenever our little hero is feeling the need, he'll be on his playmat, throw his legs in the air and the grunts ensue.

He thinks he's fooling mommy & daddy, but the eau de poo poo that lingers in the air moments later doesn't fool anyone. It took us a few days to figure out this was Cap'n Quinn's new routine. Daddy realized it first, and then mommy started thinking herself...hmmmm...I think you're right daddy. As far as the basics of what baby does, pooping has never been one of Quinn's top three. It seems we are always trying to coax it out of him by trying a little juice here, a little karo syrup there. So it seems the karo and the playmat are Quinn's Metamucil.

So folks next time you just can't get it going, don't reach for the fiber, try laying on the floor and kicking your legs in the air.

--Mommy

Squeak TV

Since we're on the subject of Quinn's singing (Please read Mommy's post below), here's a few YouTube clips of the wee Cap'n Quinn belting out his favorite song: "The Squeak Serenade."

Mommy's going to post one

Last week, our big boy turned the big 3 -- 3 months, that is. He is still fitting into his newborn outfit and we think he may get one more month out of it.

Our little man is changing everyday sometimes for the good and sometimes a little for the bad. Like waking up several times a night again, making Mommy and Daddy zombies. His newest thing is "singing" for us. It seems he has found his voice, and we think he will be the next American Idol Season 23. Think it will still be on??? He even woke up at 4:45 am, singing Monday morning. Hard to be mad when he's talking to himself and not crying himself awake.

Quinn loves to look at himself in the mirror and will spend a lot of his playtime talking to himself and making us laugh. He's making many changes and we are loving them all, even the getting up 20 times at night. We both know that someday we'll have to drag him out of bed, and no longer will he let us plant 20,000 smooches on his head.

Here are some more of Quinn's 3 month photo shoot and other pictures:

`Valentimes Day'

Cap'n Quinn and Daddy today are on an mission: buy Mommy a Valentimes Day gift.

(We know it's actually Valentine's Day. Spelling it wrong just feels funny. Good funny.)

We're thinking something like ... a new car ... a sports franchise ... a record contract ... two weeks all expenses paid to Tahiti ... or something in the $30 range. Mommy's worth it all, plus what Daddy can afford. Quinn's been saving dimes, but I told him that's for college. He's got to save his dimes. Daddy'll float him a loan.

We've had a busy week. Quinn saw a surgeon, who said the thing he might have to have fixed might not have to be fixed, which is good since we really didn't want to have to fix it.

We've switched our little hero to a soy diet. He seems to eat it better and we get the bonus of having a baby that smells like "potato flakes," as Mommy says.

Grandma Smith arrives today for a few more days. Quinn likes hanging out with his Grammies. Plus, Grandma Smith said she'll watch the little dude while Daddy takes Mommy to see her favorite American Idol star -- the bald guy from last season -- on Valentimes Day.

It should be fun. Fun like eating potato flakes on Valentimes Day.

Since Daddy's been lax on the bloggin', here's a collection of pictures and a video to make up for lost time:

Real big with the Amish

Capt. Quinn and Mommy are back from their trip to Pittsburgh, and the results are in.

Quinn's a hit with the horse-and-buggy crowd.

Yes, our little hero was a tiny celebrity with the nice Amish folk that live near Grandma and Grandpa Smith. The rest of Mommy's family and friends also rated him "four stars" in unofficial polling.

Even little Emma -- she who belongs to Aunt Penny -- found Quinn exciting. She also apparently thought he was a girl. But that happens sometimes. Right?

The wee captain also proved to be a decent traveler. But the real rewards go to Mommy for enduring the challenge.

Here's a few of Quinn's Greatest Hits from Pennsylvania

Hangin' with Great-grandpa Crissman:










Hangin' with Great-grandma Crissman:










Hangin' with his hand:










Hangin' in the sink:










Hangin' curveball:

Bachin' it.

Back when Daddy was a little fella, and Grandma Siemers would go off to work, Grandpa Siemers would say we were "bachin' it." As in, a coupla guys in temporary bachelorhood. You know, "bachin' it."

Well, I'm bachin' it. With Dexie the Wonderdog at my side.

The wee Cap'n Quinn and Mommy have flown the friendly skies back to Pittsburgh to spend a week with Grandma and Grandpa Smith. Already our little hero has shown his almighty fussiness to much of Mommy's family, many of which offered their own theories on why he's so adept at showing his almighty fussiness.

Nonetheless, it will be a good trip for Mommy and Quinn. Daddy, however, who was, admittedly, looking forward to a few days on his own, misses Mommy and the wee captain already. Sure, Dexie is good company. Great company, actually. She never leaves Daddy's side. But the house seems too empty without a fussy baby within crying distance.

I should have recorded him before he left.

We found out this week that little man has surpassed the 10 pound mark in weight. And, as you can see from the picture above, he's becoming a little man o' the world. In this photo, Quinn shows his leisurely side as he lounges in his hot tub. ("Excuse me sir, but where is that mojito I ordered?") It's what Daddy calls the 7 o'clock bath. You remember the 7 o'clock bath, right?

You should try it. It's way more fun than "bachin' it" with your dog.

Today's picture (which is actually a week or so old) I call, "Green makes me sleepy":