It all started back in November when my parents came to visit, the first time in six years that I was able to celebrate my birthday with them face-to-face, and it was not only a lovely day, but a fantastic ten days with them. The highlights were the breakfasts we shared at various Chicago locations. The Story of the visit, of course, involved Owen at Ann Sathers, as pictured:
He chose this one morning in front of the roaring fireplace and the indomitable cinnamon rolls, whilst cuddling his grandmother (above), to let loose the most violent diarrhea of his short life. My father and I rushed into the mens bathroom, that had no changing table, and spent twenty minutes being a shit-attrition team. At one point, I was holding a naked baby up while Dad was scraping the brown fluids of his back with the 200th paper towel. Thankfully, we managed to get a handle on the crap, and soon had Owen safely back in a fresh suit and back into mum's hands.
We went for a lovely walk that same afternoon in some of Chicago's urban forest district, whilst Owen slept in his wolf hat:
More to come...and not of the brown variety...
