My young padawan

It's widely assumed that I'm the funny one in this family (not to be confused with the funny-looking one, although I think there's a bit of truth to that, too.) After all, I'm the one with the blog in which I record life in a generally humourous way.

It's also assumed that I have the biggest ego in this household neighbourhood hemisphere. I can see where people might get that impression: I'm forever going on about how awesome I am, and I take more than enough pictures of myself. But in my defense, I'm my own best art subject when I want to mess with filters (I'm always around and I don't have to beg myself to stand still for two seconds for once in your life, please oh please, for the love of God). And being this awesome is worthy of regular discussion. I consider it community outreach; maybe, by sharing a little bit of me, I can teach the under-awesomed a thing or two, you know?

There was a time when I was the most self-centered, self-assured person in my family. It was a good ride, but it came to an end four-and-a-half years ago. The minute Spawnling hatched, he reached his clawed little hand up and pulled the tiara and matching sash from my person so as to claim them for his own.

Let me try to put this in a context that geeks basement dwelling mama's boys serial virgins the, um, average person will understand. Let's use a Star Wars analogy. See, once upon a time there was a great Jedi named Obi Wan Kenobi. He was this really amazing bad ass dude who owned with a light saber, rocked the robes, and could have totally wooed the bitches if he wasn't so wrapped up in upholding universal balance and junk.

One day, he meets Luke Skywalker. Luke is this kid who comes from out of nowhere and has way nicer eyes than Obi Wan and doesn't insist on sporting a hippie beard, circa 1968. He's like Obi, but without getting all killed by Darth Vader. Sure, he looses his hand, but he gets an amazingly lifelike prosthetic one, raises a spaceship out of a swamp with a little green man yelling at him in broken english, and then kicks Darth's ass.

It's not like Obi Wan wasn't awesome, it's just that his awesome pales in comparison to Luke's. He taught Luke so well that now Luke is epic winning incarnate, and Obi is dead. But it's okay because he's a ghost now.

See, I am Obi, and Spawnling is Luke. Through me, he is making himself into a legendary action figure. Observe.

Today, Spawnling asked if he could borrow my camera. I said "sure!" and went back to gardening. When I plugged in the camera this evening, I found out what he had been doing with it: taking pictures of himself.

I also take pictures of myself, but his are way cooler.

Very emo. Extra points for dramatic flair.

Seriously? A pout pose? That's my signature move. (He does it better.)

Yelling-punk-rebel pose. I highly approve.

I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. How amazing is this?

Ego points:
Luke: 1
Obi: 0

Now, onto the lesson of awesomeness. I filmed this while Spawnling was supposed to be helping me garden. Apparently "helping" means he's going to pull a picnic table under the tree, blast some music, and dance on it.



I may be awesome, but I can't table dance like that.
Luke: 2
Obi:0

See what I'm saying? the kid is chock full of wonderful. And I, for one, would be honoured to take a light saber in the gut for him any day.

(I draw the line at the beard, though.)