I don't have a fancy iphone like the rest of ya's, nor do I have Instagram so you're just going to have to deal with sub-par picture quality.
(We dress to match sometimes. Practicing for Motherboy 2012 maybe?)
I call this the Conan O'Brien.
As you can see, he sleeps a lot. I'll try to be more selective of the pictures I barrage you with in the future.
Currently James Wade is trying to fall asleep in my arms and is having the darnedest time trying to instruct me in how I am to help with this endeavor. See, I know he wants the binky because I am the mom and the mom knows these things. But James Wade is certain he does not want the binky and makes a point of letting me know how offended he is every time said binky is shoved into his mouth. Lots of scrunched faces and thrusting tongues with some half-hearted gag noises thrown in for good measure. I mean, mom, how can I BE any more clear about how much I do not want this binky? But moms know (I know because I am one, obviously) and lo and behold once the indignant squeaks and angry outbursts have tired him sufficiently, when binky is reinserted once again it's accepted as though duh mom, this is what I wanted this whole time.
And I said, I know son, I'm the mom.
(To which he replied by tiredly scrunching one eyebrow up and the other down as if to say Whatever, please have some milk ready for me in an hour-ish, kay? And then drifted off to contended binky-sucking sleep.)