|
|
|
|
|
Usually Lenny tries to keep the ball down... |
Young Master Timlin learns that Dougie always wins pie-eating contests. |
(Lenny doesn't think that was funny.) |
|
|
|
|
Usually I laugh about Timlin's son unconsciously imitating his dad, but look at Papelbon. |
"They sent a police escort?!" |
"...really?!" |
Millar was very gracious in acknowledging the crowd. |
|
... like I said... |
They've spotted someone... |
... and Millar's on a mission! |
|
Tito pretended to brush him off. |
|
|
|
|
|
Oh, the sweetness--my teeth hurt. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
That settles it--Timlin has adopted Papelbon. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Oh, Jonathan. Please. Hair. |
Think they missed Millar much? |
I get this look from my cats when I open tuna. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Never mind me, Lenny... |
|
|
... (I think I'm busted.) |
(Uh oh--maybe really busted.) |
|
|
|
|
Yes, this looked as weird as it does here when he was actually doing it. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Uh oh. Papelbon is seriously unamused. |
Back: adorable tableau with John Halama and the Timlins. Front: the look of death from Papelbon. |
|
|
|
|
|
|