Exorcising the spirit of the Eddie Bauer playpen

It's hard to believe that Little Skye has been with us a month already.

She's growing in leaps and bounds, sucking happily on her bottle, and looking around now. She's already a big fan of American Idol and goes to sleep immediately to the sounds of Shania Twain.

Oh, how evil I am.

While her dad is head-banging in the basement, his little daughter will be pleading for a hurtin' tune.

Can't, can't wait to see that!

I'm getting Nick back for 26 years of Linkin Park.

Meanwhile, Gordon J. Blackstone continues to poop himself and twirl around the living room like a little medicine man trying to ward away the spirit of the Eddie Bauer playstation. Even when Skye isn't around, Gordie the pug gets it into his head that her spirit is still inhabiting the evil grey structure by the balcony door.

I'm going to have to consult Cesar Milan on how to end the pug-baby stand off.

We might just have to wait until Little Skye becomes Big Skye and she can personally slap his stupid head.

Regardless of how you feel Gordie, I tell him, at your fossilized age of ten years old, she will definitely outlive you.

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