Just call him Ansel.

My good friend Mara brought me a stuffed tiger for Arlo on Sunday, one that she got at a zoo but that was just gathering dust in a closet at her house. I took it home to Arlo from our Knit Wits session, and he flipped. As soon as I walked in the door, he spotted it, yanked it out of my bag, and dragged it down the hallway. Next, we took pictures:

I took this one. It might not seem that special, but the fact that Arlo actually stood still and posed for the picture was a feat in and of itself--this just doesn't happen. He was obviously very proud of the new tiger.

Then Arlo got a hold of my camera, and took this picture. Okay. I sort of really hate this picture because it shows my double chin in all its glory, but I am swallowing my pride. This picture that my two-year-old took is technically much nicer than the one I took. If I could photoshop out the extra alien skin-fold on my neck, it'd be a pretty decent shot.

Oh, and then there were these, all taken by Arlo. They make me laugh.