Happy Shark Week!

In his adolescence, we'd hoped Andrew would channel his fascination with the sea into marine biology. I bought him scientific guides and thought he might go study at Woods Hole; Alberta dreamed of having birthed another Winslow Homer; Mr. Alberta speculated whether Andrew could develop a patent for fiber optic underwater cables or some such that would link the world and lead us to a liberal democracy modeled on Atlantis.

No. Instead, Andrew just waits all year for the Discovery Channel's Shark Week with the same giddy fervor with which Dutch children set out their wooden shoes in December. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before he trades in his August birthday for Shark Week presents, delivered in bubbles and adorned with algae.

Oh, it could be worse; Andrew could be encrusted with salt. He could be the Dread Pirate Roberts. He could make us watch The Little Mermaid over and over like his little brother did; he could make us all go live in a biodome under the sea. He could make us all miserable by simply talking like a sailor, and with Alberta for a mother, it's a wonder he doesn't anyway. But we love Andrew and his obsessions. To kick off this week, Alberta made him the above collage, I wrote him a poem, and Magenta and Amaryllis watched Jaws I, II, and III. But I'm a little worried. If his obsession grows, we're gonna need a bigger blog.

Ava