"Skateboarding"

So I was trying to finish the computer work on Tyson and McKall's engagement pictures (All done! Just need to rename and such ... ) in the extra bedroom downstairs (because my Mac is banished to that room) when Bekah came in and kept pestering me to help her go skating on the ice in the bathroom.

Skating on the ice in the bathroom? I had no idea what she was talking about.

Apparently this is what she was talking about:

No actual ice, thank goodness. No, she's just "skateboarding" on her play cutting board with her bowl as a helmet (Safety first!) on the slick floor of the bathroom.

Here she comes!

Oops! Biffing it on the laundry room carpet. Her skateboard met up with some more friction than she anticipated.

We love Wii

The Wii brings family together ... to fight goblins. Seth battles with the Wii remote while Bekah utilizes a dinosaur and ducky. They were playing "The Legend of Zelda."

Okay ... we've officially owned a Nintendo Wii for over a month, so it's time for the review.

However, first I must admit to something. This is my first Nintendo. Ever. This is such a new thing for me that I have to stop and think as I type the word "Nintendo" (I've made good use of the backspace key as I've misspelled it several times already).

The last "gaming system" I could claim part ownership to was the T.I. we played "Hunt the Wumpus" on as children. Sure, we had our Macintosh on which we'd play "MacMillionaire" (riveting!) or the later Macintosh on which we'd play "Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?" (in black and white!), but nothing as extraordinary as the Nintendos with "Duck Hunt" and "Super Mario Brothers" that EVERYBODY else in the world owned (or so it seemed at the time).

So now I (we) own a Nintendo. And our lives will never be the same in many ways.

Another day, another Wii daddy-daughter date. Seth and Bekah attempt the sun salutation pose while doing Wii Fit yoga.

Way #1: Competitive racing. Not only have I proved that I can occasionally hold my own against Seth while playing MarioKart, but I have also proved that I can occasionally not be last place as we play against Seth's co-workers over the Internet. I am a speed demon, people.

Way #2: Body image. Wii Fit mocks me relentlessly as I strive to reach my goal of losing four pounds in two months, only to find myself farther away from my goal now than when I started. And then it has to mock me further by asking me why I am putting on weight (albeit only a fraction of a pound). Is it overeating? Snacking? Succumbing to idiocy and buying Wii Fit?

Way #3: Boo-boos. Already I have suffered multiple injuries from playing the Wii. I couldn't move my shoulder for days after swinging a "bat" a million times just for a few coins in Mario Party, I couldn't laugh without clutching my abs in pain after doing planks in Wii Fit, and I couldn't let anything brush against my side after I got what I thought was a hernia while doing jackknives in, again, Wii Fit. (Turns out it was an internal infection ... so, technically it's not Wii-related. Or is it? Wily Wii.)

Way #4: Trendiness. Okay ... so despite the loserness I experience with MarioKart, the not losing enough I experience with Wii Fit and the limbs I lose ability to use with multiple games, I am cool. I own a Wii. Now maybe I can convince Seth that we need an iPhone.

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Don't fear the flosser

For months I have prepped Bekah for today: her first dentist visit. Apparently no amount of prepping could prepare either of us for what transpired.

I had told Bekah that she would need to open wide. I had told Bekah that she would sit in a special chair that would go up and down (slowly, I reassured her) and lie back. I had told Bekah that there would be a lady who cleaned her teeth with a special toothbrush. If only it were that easy.

First of all, she didn't want to sit in the chair. So I sat in the chair and had her sit in my lap while the hygienist made it go up and down. I asked her if she could then sit in it alone. "Yes," she replied. "No!" she immediately replied after that. But I got her to sit in it.

Then came the X-rays. She didn't want the vest on. She didn't want to keep the film in her mouth. She didn't want to hold still. She REALLY didn't want me to leave the room long enough for the hygenist to push the button. So in the end, I put an extra vest on me and held Bekah's face in my hands while the X-ray was taken. Oh, yes ... and I promised her she'd get no balloon from the hygienist if she moved a muscle.

Next, the cleaning. She gladly chose raspberry toothpaste, but then she didn't want to lie back in the chair. She didn't want to open her mouth. She didn't want the hygienist to stick that crazy thing in her mouth. She DID like "Mr. Thirsty," the straw that sucks out the excess water. It wasn't until the hygienist relinquished the toothbrush to me and let me try it out on Bekah's teeth that she'd let the expert take over.

Flouride. She liked the sound of the "duck-billed tray," as the assistant called it, but when Bekah got a look at it, it was a no-go. But I think this assistant had had her share of hog-tying tykes before, because when Bekah refused, she quickly changed tactics. Instead of the tray, Bekah had the flouride applied with a Q-tip.

Finally, the dentist himself. Bekah didn't want to sit in that chair for a second longer. And she certainly didn't want to show her pearly whites to this strange man. In the end, she reluntantly opened just wide enough for the mirror while I cheered her on.

All the fears dissipated, however, when she was told she was done and could have a new toothbrush (Pooh! Red!) and a balloon (Floating! Pink!).

Good thing there were no cavities (although who could tell when all they got were fleeting glimpses?); hopefully Seth and I can quell Bekah's dentist-related fears in time for her next visit in January 2009.

Nerding it up in Snowbird

No one will contest the fact that I am a nerd. Always have been. And I will continue in my nerdy ways until my dying day (which will probably involve some sort of freak Star Wars paraphernalia accident).

That being said, Seth is actually taking vacation days to attend a Jostens yearbook workshop with me in Snowbird, Utah, this week. Yeah ... time off for yearbookies. Woo-hah! And I asked him to do it.

You see, my dad has been teaching at this workshop thing for 20+ years, and I have had the opportunity to go with him a few times. The first time I went, my little brother Tyson and I got to watch TV in Mom and Dad's hotel room while they attended classes. Years later I attended the workshop as a yearbook student. But the last few years I have come as the slide show producer.

Throughout the three-day workshop, photographers (including my dad and myself) shoot candids and group photos of the students and their advisers, and it is my responsibility to pull those elements together into a media production for all the attendees to watch after they receive their awards.

This requires a lot of time on my feet taking pictures, a lot of time in the hotel room working on the computer, and a lot of stress knowing that I have a huge deadline to face.

But I love it.

And Seth has been nice enough to accompany me this year. He's been the videographer/soundtrack producer/co-editor.

The awards ceremony starts at 3:45 p.m tomorrow, and so far we've been able to put together 2 minutes and 40 seconds of our 8.5-minute slide show.

Not the getaway most couples would envision. But for nerds like us, it works.

Am I a man? Yes, technically I am.

The original title of this blog post was going to be "I am not good at fixing things, and generally make our house look worse." It was going to be, as you may have guessed, about how I am not good at fixing things. Instead, I have decided to get all philosophical on your heiny (my spellchecker says this should be Heinrich). Brace yourselves.

The other day we were at Lowes to buy a new ceiling fan for our bedroom. 1991 had called and said it wanted our old one back. My inward man was saying, "A ceiling fan! Great! I get to install a ceiling fan! Installing things, fixing things, that is a mannish thing to do!" However, another part of me was curled up in the fetal position on the floor of the Museum of Somewhat Shoddy Home Improvement Projects, because it knows: I am not good at fixing things.

Some guys make it look so easy, you know? My father in law is one of those. He can build a deck, do some plumbing, do some electric wiring, build a house, raise a barn, shoe an ox, build a car. All sorts of cool stuff. He makes it look very easy. His hands are large. The things he builds seem to turn out very professional-ish.

Whenever I begin a project, though, it doesn't turn out like that at all. Things don't seem to fit together. One side is longer than the other. I buy the wrong kind. I force something and crack it. In the end, I'm sweating, angry, and have given the wife and kids a Spanish vocabulary lesson they probably didn't need. I have girly hands. Carny hands. Circus Folk. Nomads, you know. Smell like cabbage. Small hands.

Now don't get me wrong. I have done a few things more or less successfully in the home improvement realm (disclaimer: my father in law helped me with spme of these), a few of which include:

• I did some sheetrocking to patch some holes in the walls of the closets


• I have now installed two ceiling fans
  
  


• I hung a door downstairs
  


• I fixed a cabinet/shelf thing in the kitchen
  


• I took apart our tub drain, but I was unable to fix it. It was just too much for me. I called the plumber in shame. I know he was mocking me inside.

There might be a few more, even. But the point is, it is not something I am very good at. It does not come naturally to me. And it seems like that sort of thing is the sort of thing a Man should be good at.

So, I've been thinking. What makes a man a man? Am I am man? Yes, technically I am. I've decided to make a list of manly things to see if I am good at them or not:

• I can provide for my family. I suppose "Software Engineer" is not the first thing that comes to mind when you think of a manly job. Not like "contractor," or "ice road trucker," or "some sort of monster crab hunter." But it is a job where I'm respected and where I get to use my brain to solve problems. And it pays really well. Verdict: manly man.


• I am not particularly strong and/or muscled. Most girls could beat me up, unless I were to resort to dirty tricks, like throwing sand in their eyes. (Ladies, I do not consider myself above doing this, so be on your guard.) Verdict: girly man.


• I can sing, play the guitar, and write songs. Chicks used to dig it. (If you want to hear some of my songs that I recorded in high school and college, you can check out my (shudder) MySpace page, or see this post on our old blog.) Verdict: manly man.
  


• I am not good at sports. Specifically, team sports like basketball, baseball, football, etc. However, I am a fair golfer, I am an outdoorsman, and I can probably outski most of you. Verdict: tie.


• I am a generally successful hunter. Verdict: manly man.
  


• I have proven myself capable of reproducing, twice. With Ana we didn't hardly even try. Verdict: manly man (technically).


• I hate watching sports on TV. I mean, I really don't ever do it. I think the last professional sports game I have watched on TV of my own free will (minus the SuperBowl, which I watch for the ads and for the snack food) was in the 90's. Verdict: girly man.


• I can open most cans and jars that my wife cannot open. She says she has loosened them up for me, but I think she is saying that to make herself feel better. Verdict: manly man.


• Like Gaston, every last inch of me is covered with hair. I also have the butt-chin. Verdict: manly man.
  


• I just quoted a Disney movie, specifically Beauty and the Beast. Verdict: girly man.

Hm. I'm not sure there's a clear winner here.

But you know what? Maybe it doesn't matter that I'm not sports-oriented, or that I can't build stuff out of wood. I'm a good father. My kids love me. My beautiful wife and I have a terrific marriage. I honor my priesthood.

I may not be Chuck Norris. I guess I'm not the typical stud-muffin. But I'm happy with who I am, and I guess sometimes that's good enough.

She's three!

Good times had by all. Such was Rebekah's birthday yesterday.

Seth and I were downstairs already when she woke up and found us. I wished her a happy birthday, and she immediately wanted to know where the "thing" in the back of the van was.

Back story: The day before I had secretly bought her present, then put it in the back of the van. I pulled it out of the sack to show while at my parents' house, and when the girls and I got home, Bekah unbuckled herself and found the present. She wanted so BADLY to know what it was, but I said she needed to wait until her birthday the next day.

So when she asked for it, Seth and I pulled out a giant gift bag where she finally got to learn what the "thing" was. Play dishware and plastic food. Hooray!

Rebekah enjoying a cup of tea. Later, Seth asked for peppermint tea. She said she didn't have any. So I asked her what kind of tea it was. Her response: "Metamorphosis tea."

She and Ana occupied themselves with that for quite a while. Then we packed up and went to the zoo to celebrate all our family's spring birthdays. Seth's favorite part of the zoo trip is the dire warning he received from Bekah in the petting zoo. She was very wary of the goats, and so she whispered in her daddy's ear, "Daddy, let's get out of here before the goats get us" in a very sincere tone.

Needless to say, she survived those ferocious goats.

She doesn't like the goats, yet she gladly took a drink from the lion's-mouth-drinking fountain ...

She bravely rode on a tiger's back. Granted, they were fake animals, and the goats were real. Too real for Bekah.

After lunch and naps, Bekah got to check out her new pool. That's right. We got a pool. Check out our awesome coolness:

That's one mighty fine pool there. Seth was brave enough to join her.

Bekah had to chase the beach ball because it was windy.

Then it was dinner and the traditional birthday cake. Bekah got to pick out the cake type. Thank you, Better Homes and Gardens, for the idea and instructions. You're a lifesaver.

Monkey cake and Rebekah. Ana eagerly awaits her piece in the background.

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finger-lickin' good

Babies and toddlers are messy. I get that. But last night's high chair scene was ... well, all I can describe it as is "carnage." See for yourself:

Nothing escaped the smearing hands of Ana.

But at least she seems to enjoy it.

The mouth. The hands. The bib. The cup. The horror!

She acted very interested in the camera, but I won't even let her touch it with clean hands.

What was so incredibly smash-into-the-mouth-with-both-hands delicious? Check out the recipe below. Bekah loved it too.

Peach Melba Salad

1 cup cottage cheese
1 large can sliced peaches, drained
1 carton Cool Whip, thawed
1 3 oz. package raspberry Jell-O
1/4 cup maraschino cherries

In a large salad bowl, spread 1/2 of the cottage cheese, then layer with half of the peaches (I chopped them so they were Ana-mouth sized) and half the Cool Whip. Sprinkle Cool Whip with half of the Jell-O powder. Repeat layers. Top with cherries (I cut them in half). Chill and serve.

put a cap in it

Imagine this: it's 6:15 AM. I'm awake: one of the girls has needed re-tucking in, birds outside our window have woken me up, I need to check to see if the toilet is still working. Something like that. Anyway, I've got to get up for work in a half hour or so anyway, so I rub my eyes and wander downstairs and turn on the computer. "I'll check my blog roll," I think. "That'll kill a few minutes."


So I start opening up your blogs, middle-clicking the links until five or six of them are open in my browser's tabs. Then it happens. A deafening cacophony, an unintended medley of U2, Googoo Dolls, Doughtry, Rascal Flats, and Roy Orbison. My gears grind as I click to each tab, searching for the pause button.


Well, no more.


Thanks to Adblock Plus, a terrific add-on for Firefox, I have added rules to block ALL of your music players. HA! I've retaken control of what was once mine. I don't come stand outside your window, boombox blasting Peter Gabriel, and now, I'll listen to my music on my own time. Ha, ha!


Rant over. If any of you, gentle readers, are peevish at me, I present this nugget of hilarity as a peace offering so we don't have to resort to fisticuffs. I'd probably give you what for, anyway.





(It won't run automatically, you have to click play. Manners, you know.)

happy, happy birthday, ana dear

Through my blog-stalking, I've seen lots of women who lament when their babies turn 1. "He used to be so tiny!" "I miss the days of rocking her to sleep!" "His little toothless smile was so precious!"

Not me. Onward and upward, I say. Not-so-tiny means she can walk around by herself and not have to be carried everywhere. Not-rocking means she is old enough to soothe herself into slumber without me having to stare bleary-eyed at the TV at 2:37 a.m. Not-toothless means I don't have to cook everything until it's limp as a noodle and mash it beyond recognition.

Now don't get me wrong--I love babies. I really do. But I see no problems with my little Analee celebrating her first birthday, thereby transitioning from baby to toddler.

So ... happy birthday Ana! Here's how we celebrated:

Before her birthday, Grandma and Grandpa Grover brought by a gift bag with some toys (they were going out of town and wanted to be early rather than late). Both Ana and Bekah enjoyed exploring the new goodies.

Grandma and Grandpa Grover helping Analee check out all the buttons on her Noah's Ark toy.

The day of her birthday (Saturday), both girls were feeling pretty yucky. Turns out it was a viral thing that has since evolved into an earache for Ana. So we kept it low-key. After Seth and I worked on the weekend housework and some yard work, Bekah unveiled the family's present to Ana--a walker/rider toy. We have to keep reminding Bekah that she's too small to ride on it.

Ana (and Seth) getting a kick out of her new toy. (Please ignore the laundry in the background. At least it's clean, right?)

That night after dinner we had the birthday cake, and Ana's reaction to her first slice was much different than Bekah's on her first birthday. Ana reveled in it, smashed her fingers into it, and licked off as much frosting as possible. Bekah would hardly touch hers.

Analee digging in.

We had planned on taking the girls around to decorate some family graves in the area (it being Memorial Day weekend and all), but Ana was feeling so tired by this point that Seth and I thought it best that Ana stay behind. So Bekah and I met up with my mom, sister and grandpa to do the decorating. Grandma Scott planned on stopping by our house afterward to give Ana her present, but Seth called and said that he had put Ana to bed early because she was so tired. So, instead, Grandma left the present with me, and Ana opened it the next day.

Ana reading the elephant book Grandma and Grandpa Scott gave her. You can see the dress that Grandma made her, too.

This is a fun time of year for our little Grover family. Within three weeks we celebrate three-fourths of our members' birthdays (I'm the odd one out with a September birthday). Stay tuned for future posts on Seth's birthday (June 8) and Rebekah's birthday (June 14).

kiddies can rock with tmbg

It's Ethan's fault. I have an obsession with They Might Be Giants, an alternative rock group that's been writing and performing for 20 years.

I blame my brother because he's the one that introduced me to such classics as "Mammal" and "Particle Man" when I was an impressionable grade-schooler. Since then, I've reveled in songs from their more recently released albums such as "Dr. Worm" and "The Mesopotamians."

My love for TMBG runs deeply. The day before Seth returned from his mission, I was not shopping for a new outfit to wear at our first face-to-face meeting in two years. I was not making a "Welcome Home" banner or planning refreshments for the wedding reception. Nope. I was at the Red Butte Gardens in Salt Lake attending a TMBG concert. Although our wedding and the births of our children rank No. 1 in my life as the most important events of my life, July 23, 2003, ranks right up there too.

John Flansburgh (guitar) and John Linnell (accordion) of They Might Be Giants, playing at the Red Butte Gardens in Salt Lake City, Utah, on July 23, 2003.

Me holding the TMBG shirt I paid dearly for ($20!) after the concert.

And now I'm passing that legacy on to my children. TMBG has released three children's albums, the most recent of which is called Here Come the 123s. We have a copy that plays in the van nearly every time we drive anywhere (the exception being Sundays when we're going to/from church), and Bekah loves to sing along. Her favorite song is "High Five," a throwback to the disco era that includes such lovable lyrics as:

High five! Up top!
Low five! Don't stop!
Slap me five! Wooooo!
Down low, too slow!

Now what three-year-old (or 25-year-old, for that matter) could resist those?

Anyway, if any of you readers in the blogosphere have children, I'd highly recommend the album. It's my favorite of their three children's albums by far. And if you want to check out the cutest video of children performing "Seven," click here.

Edit by Seth:
I must admit I've become a fan since Andrea and I were married. Apart from those Andrea mentioned, here are some of my favorites:

• Ana Ng


• Birdhouse In Your Soul


• Experimental Film


• Shadow Government

-Seth

Other Edit by Seth, five minutes later:
Wow, after watching those music videos, I am reminded what huge nerds they are. This band really is perfect for Andrea and I.

go, speed racer!

Well, we did it. We bought a minivan.

We'd been mulling about this for a while. Andrea's '97 Chrysler Concorde, Sheila, has been a faithful steed for our family for the last seven years or so. She bought it for $6,000 while I was on my mission, and we finished paying off the loan soon after we got married.

But's it's starting to show it's age and it's getting harder and harder to fit both girls in there with all the stuff which seems to gravitate around them like Jupiter's moons. So we started looking at minivans.

We read good things about the Toyota Sienna and Honda Odyssey, and test-drove a couple of Sienna's, but they're rather pricey (or, as I like to say, "freaking-butt expensive"). So, while we were at the Hertz dealership last week our salesman-guy showed us a Hyundai Entourage, which we test drove and decided we liked. We came home and researched it some more, and, after reading lots of positive reviews, decided we'd give it a go.

So, this morning we loaded up in ol' Sheila and headed back into town. We looked at the two Entourages they had and decided the blue one seemed somewhat lacking (and funky smelling, too), so we hopped back in the gold one and took it for another spin, after checking out all the latches, levers, straps, and hooks to make sure they work. We drove it out to Cloverdale to drive up on the ramps at Andrea's folks' house to have a looksie. After deciding that everything looked good, we drove back to begin the dickering.

For the record, I hate the whole dickering/bargaining thing. I think it's retarded. If only there were a fair way for everyone to just know how much stuff fairly cost, and we pay that. Actually, I think they tried that: it was called communism and it didn't go too hot. So never mind. Anyway, I'd kind of been sweating the whole thing, but I think I held my own pretty well. We only had to threaten to leave twice, but the guy we were working with was pretty good to work with. We were able to talk him down from $17,900 to $16,600 and before we knew it, we were signing papers! We also were able to get a crazy-low 3.94% interest rate and put $5,000 down, so our monthly payments are going to be pretty manageable.

So that's it! We're the proud owners of a gold 2007 Hyundai Entourage with 18,000 miles on it. It's definitely the newest thing Andrea or I have ever owned. We're pretty happy about it.

Features we like:

• fold-down rear and middle seats


• separate temperature controls in the front (she's always to cold, I'm always too hot)


• climate control for the rear seats


• lots of room (seats seven) and storage


• four doors: two front and two sliding


• 3.8L V6 engine


• a kiddy-mirror


• seventy-four cup holders (Seriously, though, it's like 13 or something. Within the reach of the driver there are SEVEN cup holders.)
• 
  
• the girls won't be able to touch each other


• the "grocery bag hooks" (Andrea thinks this is cool)

We came home pretty pumped about the whole experience. Andrea was actually kind of leaping around doing some sort of Leprechaun jig or something.

We're not sure yet of the social implications of owning a mini-van. Does this make us "square," at least any moreso than we already were? Is Andrea a "soccer-mom?" I turn 26 this June. That officially puts me in my "late twenties," which is durned-near forty, as far as I can tell. I wonder if having a minivan is just another symptom.

Oh well, it'll be nice to have in my old age. I guess I could sit in our driveway on the rear bumper while I yell at the kids to get the heck off my lawn.

Here's the link to the gallery, since you REALLY want to see our new van SO much. And, for those who don't want to click, here are some pictures:


Our new van


The "grocery bag hook" Andrea thought was so funny


Me holding on to the "oh crap" bar


Andrea at the wheel



As per our tradition, we've decided on a name for our sexy new beast. We're naming it (him, I suppose) Vincent. As in, "Vincent Van, Go!"

By the way, Sheila is for sale now. We're asking $2,900 or best offer. If you or anyone you know needs a car that still runs great for cheap, let us know.

projects

We moved into our house nearly three years ago. Bekah was four days old, and I was in Snowville, Utah, attending my Grandma Scott's funeral when Seth and his family transported all our stuff from our apartment in Iona to our current location in Coltman. So it was under these circumstances that I got a crash-course in what's it's like being a co-homeowner, a brand new stay-at-home mom, and therefore the primary yardworker on our nearly 2-acre plot. Needless to say, I was feeling good if the plentiful weeds in the lawn, flowerbeds and elsewhere were not mutating into the Audrey II from Little Shop of Horrors. In other words, I didn't get a whole lot done.

Since then I've tried to take on a project or two each summer to make our yard look nicer. First it was making a vegetable garden. Then it was transforming a mound surrounded by trees from an eyesore to something more aesthetically pleasing. I have no "before" pictures, but here is the semi-finished product:

Our back mound next to the firepit.

I say "semi-finished" because the Snow on the Mountain I planted last fall hasn't yet had time to mature. But my botany-loving aunt assures me that by next summer the plants will have grown and spread to cover the entire mound.

My baby Snow on the Mountain.

This summer I'm tackling another mound, this time in the front yard. It's too steep to drive a mower on, so the grass would be about waist-height before one of us would pull out the string-trimmer and tackle the growth. So I'm transforming it into a flowerbed. So far I've sprayed the whole thing with Roundup, and I've dug up most of the outline. Next we'll till the whole thing under so we can start with a nice, clean slate.

The view of the mound from the driveway. I used the hoses to mark the outline of the future flowerbed before I started spraying everything.

The mound in relation to the house. Bekah felt the need to model her new bucket and shovel in the picture.

Another view of Bekah/the mound.

Hot wife... cool mom.

I just have to take a quick minute today on Mothers' Day and say how incredible my wife is. She's beautiful, talented, funny, so kind and patient with our girls, and just all-around wonderful. I love her so much, and I'm so lucky to have her.

She'll probably get after me for posting this on our blog for the world to see (the internet is generally a pandemic of TMI), but I have to shout it from the rooftops... she's the greatest!

hey there, baby cakes

The other day I received an invitation for a fellow Bonneville alumna's baby shower. So while shopping at Target for a gift, I opted to do something a little more labor intensive than just picking up a package of onesies and slapping a bow on it. Instead, inspired by such Web sites as this and this, I created a diaper cake. I used about 30-40 diapers (size 3 so I could use the rest of the box for Analee), some rubber bands, scotch tape and ribbon to create the tiers. Then I placed the little sample/travel size baby wash, powder, etc. under the rubber band and ribbon and threaded a couple of pacifiers through so they'd stay in place. The stuffed lion is pinned down so as to not topple from his diaper throne. Overall, I was incredibly happy with the results. I think it's cute!

The entire "cake." They're having a boy.

Detail of the top tier.

Detail of the bottom tier.