John Liam Comes Marching Home

Well...allllright. Maybe not marching, but sauntering inside the baby carrier. He experienced his first parking garage, his first lady wearing a plum colored pant suit, his first car, his first stop sign, his first right and the left turns. Down his first hill (steep, steep San Francisco), he's a local boy, all the way. Down the train tracks, down our street for his first time, then up the garage steps, and boom; trumpets, red carpets, heralds and more fanfare, into his home, our home, his castle, kingdom and playpen.

Much pooping will commence soon, I thinks.