Zeke and Josh bond

I'm in New Hampshire now. It's fucking freezing. Or rather, it's in the mid-50s, but to me it feels like the North Pole. Zeke and I are sitting around my brother's house bundled up in sweatshirts and blankets. Meanwhile, my niece, Emma, is running around in shorts and a t-shirt and flip-flops, telling me it's not cold. Apparently, living in Hawaii for a year has turned me into a temperature wuss.

Other than that, all is well. Zeke has a little viral cold, so he's got a nice phlegmy cough, but I'm just keeping him bundled up and making sure he gets plenty of naps, so he's managing OK. He's having a big time getting acquainted with his cousins and his uncle and auntie.

It's so cute to see my brother Josh with him. Josh is an adorable combination of big strong tough guy and total softie. He's a rock of muscle, a beer-drinking, sports-watching rugby player, but he's got 3 daughters who have him wrapped around their fingers and he's got this incredible touch with babies. The first night we were here, Zeke was having a hard time setting down -- and between the jet lag, the plane rides, the new and unfamiliar people and places, and the teeth that are popping through his gums as I type this, I can't say that I blame him. I was holding him trying to give him a bottle, and Josh said, "I've got this." He picked up Zeke, grabbed the bottle, and said, "come on, buddy, let's go." Later that night I went upstairs to find them both lying on a bed, chatting and listening to the sound of the ocean on the white noise machine.

According to Josh, they were telling penis jokes and getting to know each other.