We were all reunited with the little guy last night. He ate in his teepee, pooped mid-dance, swayed to Django Reinhardt, and used his new teeth brushin' skills with Aunty Brit. The two Bs in this house are best buds. Meghan and I like to think we have a chance at being his favorite aunt, but Brit comes home each night and we don't really exist anymore. It seems as though we all have different roles in his life, and it's obvious that Brit takes the stand as the older teenage brother. Still figuring out what Meghan and I are. Maybe one day he'll let us know.
After a huge red wine spill and multiple time outs, we caught the VMAs just in time. Even Barrett was dropping his jaw with Miley and Gaga's butts in his face. Or maybe it was all our talk about how we don't understand anything anymore. Guess that's the key to sleep since he eventually passed out in mom's arms.