Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying About The Consistency of Poop

Gentlemen (dunno if there's ladies here), Behold... My Son, Bombilla, Jr.

Born this past June, and weighed (and I'm actually serious here) 9 lbs 11oz and was 23-in long. He's my big boy. He's almost 3 months old now, and we just finished watching our first Horns game last weekend with grandpa.

Blah blah blah. Yeah...I know. Boring.

But there's a reason why I write these words. Y'all are like my extended family. A family that I've grown to appreciate, respect, and yell at. A family that is more interested in discussing the fine points of Rodriguezezezzz A-11 offense scheme (or joke) while I keep trying to think of another word for "erection" or "diarrhea" or "love". Love that's what it's all about, isn't it? Love and football. And changing diapers.

I can do it with one hand, now: change diapers. I am the sensei of poop. I can tell the difference between a seismic event and butt murmurs. I know when the big one is coming before it enters his little intestine. I have become comfortable with poop.

Which is why I think I'm going to be able to handle this season. I have mellowed, fellows. Junior's granddad (my daddy) actually noticed that the television was intact even after the fourth FRIGGIN' BUBBLE SCREEN, the EIGHTEENTH EAST/WEST PASS, another DAMN WHATEVER THE HELL THAT PLAY IS THAT ANNOYS THE SHIT OUT OF ME!!! ...but I'm cool, now. Like a cucumber. I'm older now, and wiser. Sensitive, even, and a bit melancholy. I'm actually more like cucumber that's been sitting in a jar of sun tea on the deck of an aircraft carrier. A limp, tea-stained, fully caffeinated, deaf cucumber. What does that mean? Hell, I don't know. But you read it, and now you own a part of my own confusion so eat it, young man.

Anyway, this rambling should be considered a preface to the life and times of my youngest son. It is intended to track the growth, development, and indoctrination of my littlest Longhorn.

I will call him "Junior" in these missives.

I actually wanted to name him "Vince Godzilla", but this was dismissed by my narrow-minded wife. Pity.