Baby needs a new pair of shoes...

No, I did not go shopping...we went to Vegas. Stayed in one of the cheaper casino hotels off the strip near Dan's brother and his family. We go there a lot to hang out with them and bond with their son, Simon. This month's excuse to go was Simon's second birthday. It's so cool to see him the way we do, once every two months or so, because his developement makes these huge jumps, but not so big that you get there and think, "Wasn't he just in diapers? When did he learn to drive?!" He's got a very lamentable "Oh no!" that you just can't help but laugh at, and he LOVES his "Uncle Dayo" as he calls Dan. He kept tracking Dan down and taking his hand and pulling him back outside to play. Simon's parents, Andrew and Amber, bought him a Little Tykes jungle gym--not a really big one, just the the right size for the 2-5 set--and Dan's one of those really awesome uncles that will get right down on the floor and play with kids like Simon, so he was tumbling head-first down the slide (a trick Simon instantly copied) and crawling all over with him. SO sweet.

Las Vegas is just such a weird, weird city. No offense meant to any Vegas folk, but I gotta say, I feel safer driving in LA than I do in Vegas. Not just because of the INSANE traffic (because there are so many 24 hour jobs, rush hour never ends!) and the constant construction zones (something's always being either built or renovated or paved or patched) but the fact that it's one of those cities where people WILL come after you if you cut them off. And because you can own pretty much anything in the world there and have it with you, you never know what they're coming after you WITH: a gun or a trained assassin monkey or what. (We actually saw someone take off after a guy who went through a stop sign when it wasn't his turn. Freaked me out.) And when you're down on the strip, or in any casino, really, there's an almost tangible sense of empty amusement and despair mingled with the cigarette smoke. And don't get me started on the people who stand on the street corners on the strip to hand out girlie fliers. *shudder* Thankfully Simon and the gang live in North Las Vegas, away from most of the freakiness. But still, it felt good to drive through our own clean RSM and crash in our own bed when we got home this afternoon. Home Sweet Home indeed!