MoodyPants, SuperSpouse, The Dada, The Husband, Teacher/Artist at Work, Overachiever Everywhere, and Grump-or-Goofball Extraordinaire at Home (depending on the day): Does the Fathering and Husband-ing, major in Kitchen Care, minor in Grocery Procurement and Preparation. Teaches Art all day for pay; makes his own by the light of the moon. Achieves more before breakfast than most people do in a month. Cooks like a five star chef, cleans like a maid on meth, and works harder than John Henry with a hammer in his hand. But when it's a full moon: watch out. Possesses demon moods that have been known to escape the limits of the body and cast a dark shadow throughout the land. Attempts to harness said moods as weapon of warfare against rogue states currently ongoing. Ability to wither whole rooms with a look. Condition can be mitigated with ingestion of microbrewed beverages, so if you come calling when the moon is full, you'd better come correct. You've been warned. Wishing for a handyman, a million dollars, or both along with that beer, so he can take a well-deserved break.
The Boy, The Toddler, Boy Child, Big Brother, Etc.: Bigger of the two children, Toddler, Too-Soon-To-Be-Preschooler. Communicates primarily through Squealing (with joy), Shouting (goes well with any emotion!) and Repeating (until he gets the response he seeks). Thus far has demonstrated inheritance of the maternal capacities for both endless chatter and limitless loafing: chillin' out, maxin', relaxin' all cool. Still incapable of shootin' some b-ball outside of the school. Capacity to surpass father in the following cantankerous skill-sets: bursting into tears for no apparent reason whatsoever (Dada has simply never mastered this rudimentary skill), and winning arguments with a single word (see: MINE! NO! and WHY DADA?) (Okay, that's two words. But twice as effective.) (Neither parent has this skill.) (Why use one word when you could use ten?). Lover of cheese sticks, french toast, and those disgusting mandarin oranges that come in a can. Generally an easy kid, but he wants what he wants, when he wants it. And he will tell you about it. Again and again. Until you respond. Correctly.
The Girl, The Baby, Girl Child, Little Sister, Etc.: Newborn baby. Communicates primarily through Grunting, Rooting and Attempting to Latch onto the closest available protrusion (Mama's cheek, Dada's nose, why not?). Not a blank slate, but not prepared to be summed up quite so easily as all that yet, either. A mystery unfolding; a tale in the telling. A fat-faced, blue-eyed, breastfeedin' fool. Conceived on her mama's birthday following a miscarriage and months of waiting. Born days before Christmas, just on time to receive a tree full of presents and provide a tax break for the calendar year of her birth. A much wanted, much loved little bambina, just waiting to show us who she is. Certain only to be full of surprises.