Boyz in the Hood

My brother-in-law, Aaron, recently joined me for a walk about town with Baxter. We soaked in the sites and were anxiously seeking refuge in one of Leslieville/South Riverdale’€™s restaurants for a food break.
As usual, the regular haunts were crammed. The next-best option had all the booths taken, leaving an extremely high bar table’€”which is fine if you don’€™t mind feeding Baxter down in his stroller (like tossing treats into the sunken monkey cage at the zoo). Finally, we came across Table 17, which was taking orders for the next nine minutes’€”that worked for us. No need to dally. We settled in, ordered and I plunked Bax on my lap for the balance of our visit.

It was grand to talk of the days when the boyz can go to a hockey game, or toboggan, or toss a ball around. This day foreshadowed countless times when we three shall be together, bonding as only men can. It added a little perspective to our simple day. We were also celebrating my final pre-registration exam, which added REALTOR to my list of skills, so spirits were high.

And Baxter was the icing on the cake. He never fussed, and never complained. In fact, he was a beacon of true joy to our only neighbouring table of ladies. They reveled as Baxter imbued a sing-song melody to the meal. Of course, this musical delight would be short-lived if not for my vibrato. Baxter will hold any note (as long as there is breath in his lungs) if you will shake, vibrate or otherwise oscillate his meaty bod. So, on my knee he would perch, singing a random tune as I added the appropriate amount of knee-judder.

As if this wasn’€™t wonderful enough, I’€™ve taken to placing my finger horizontally across his mouth and wagging it across his lips (classic move). This is non-stop aural bliss and makes anyone within listening distance smile and laugh. Good times.

(And thanks for lunch, Aaron!)