“His Name is… Sugar?” “No. It’s Baby J”

Took Baby J to see No Country for Old Men this weekend. He hid in my coat pocket even though I told him kids under 4 were free. I think he likes it in there.

The movie was ten shades of ultra-violent awesome, btw. Can’t wait to see it again and possibly read the book.

But ever since we got home, Baby J has been acting a little weird. He snuck up on me this morning in this get-up:

baby chigurh

He keeps telling me he has a quarter in his pocket from 1958 that made its way here just so I could call heads or tails. Just call it, Anne, he says. Because he can’t call it for me.

Frankly, it’s starting to spook me just a little bit.