I've decided that my two-month-old son likes Everclear. That is, the band, not the highly alcoholic drink. He's been fighting a cold the past few days, but after a good couple of nights with the humidifier cranked up next to his bassinet, he's been getting good sleep and kicking the crap out of the sniffles. That's my boy.

He slept in today, but I got up at 4:30 anyway. I really wanted to finish up revising chapter 7 of the baseball novel so I could take a short break from the book for a few days to work on a story or two for anthologies whose deadlines are the end of February.

The end of chapter 7 is the end of the "first act" (of three) of the novel, so it was as good a place as any to stop and catch my breath. I've hit a good rhythm with the revising, but I've gotten a bit rushed the last few days. I want to go back over those sections armed with some of the good feedback I've been getting from some readers before I plunge onwards. And there's always that pesky research to do as well...

So I was finishing up a good three-hour session at the computer this morning when Drew woke up. Elizabeth had stuff to do, so Drew got to hang out with Daddy-o. I put him in the trusty bouncey seat and cranked up the music. I think his favorite song is "Volvo Driving Soccer Mom" by the aforementioned Everclear -- just about every line, as sung by me, cracked him up. He was just bouncing and grinning and drooling away.

Apparently, the higher my voice gets as I sing, the more he likes it. But he does love some guitars and drums too, especially when I make the cymbal sounds with my mouth. It's the simple things, really... Who needs expensive toys and such? I've got me, the one-man orchestra.

And so the weekend creeps closer. We're off to Chapel Hill tonight, the motherland, to eat greasy food at the Rathskeller. Can't wait to introduce Drew to one of the coolest towns in the country. Later!

UPDATED: I had to add a snippet from the last page of chapter 7:

On the strength of Donaldson's second complete game of the day, just as the sun hit the horizon, the All Nations defeated the Chicago American Giants three games to one.

A moment later the field was draped in darkness, until the blackness was cut to pieces by the headlights of the departing spectators. All of them were so shocked they didn't even bother to speak or even toot their horns in farewell.

The All Nations players left South Side Park too tired to sing or play a tune on their instruments back on the bus. We'd accomplished something here today, something for the history books. I knew I'd want to remember everything about today. I couldn't wait to get back to the hotel room and get to writing.