Beehner bash

Ummy and Bumpa Beehner paid a nice pre-Christmas visit to Jack this week, treating him to some homespun magic and family fun. Jack really took a shine to Ummy's walker, that is until he found himself underneath it. Then the two had a falling out.

Operation Winter

Greeted by the season's first snowfall, Jack got out and showed it the business, sporting a smart ensemble that tamed the cold and looked good doing it.

Candy shakedown

For Halloween, Jack brought his A-game, squeezing into a pumpkin costume that delivered on its promise of a snug fit. He then went about his trick-or-treat routine with some serious gusto, storming the sidewalk and plundering neighborhood cribs for his rightful bounty. Still, his harvest proved to be surprisingly modest: a single Kit-Kat bar. His quest having run its full course, Jack decided to give up the ghost and turn his attention to more pressing and serious matters, like the relocation of some nearby rocks.

Fancy free

Jack's been feeling in the pink lately, thanks in part to his evolving speech abilities. Sure, on the surface, they sound like babbling, and no one has a clue what he's talking about. But that's not important--he'll wait for us to catch up. Until then, the insights and witty patter packed into his monologues will be enjoyed by him alone.

Days of thunder

With summer almost over, Jack's dead set on wringing all the excitement he can out of his remaining days, whether he's hanging out in the backseat of the daycare bus, kicking it up at the park or standing late-night watch over his neighborhood corner.

Stubborn stroller

Jack's a man of routine. And his routine pretty much consists of waiting around begrudgingly until it's time for his evening walk. And although the neighborhood is vast, encompassing dozens of exotic streets and sidewalks, Jack's not one for deviating from his predetermined route--namely the same one he took months ago when he first learned to piddle down the sidewalk. It worked well then. It works well now. Those other options, Jack sniffs, are fool's gold.

Wild dunes

A few days in sunny Charleston, S.C., did wonders for Jack's appreciation of the finer things in life: such as sand. And wet sand.

A pair of Jacks

Grandpa Jack paid a visit this month, bearing bad news about the woes of Jack's beloved Cubs. Although Jack at first wouldn't hear of it, he ultimately let down his guard, acknowledging he'd probably be better off climbing aboard the Red Sox bandwagon. But, he added, only on one condition: Grandpa Jack would first have to survive one his sassafras stare-downs.

He got next