Major Major Major Major

My 17-month-old nephew was in town this weekend. He thought the New England Aquarium, filled with fish and sea mammals from all over the world, was kinda cool -- city buses, however, were wide-eyed, jaw-droppingly cool. He also took a serious interest in organizing our spice rack according to an algorithm known only to him -- I have not yet determined if, by taking the first letter of the spice and correlating it to a number via a simple substitution cryptogram, my brilliant nephew has deduced the first 20 digits of pi, but I wouldn't be surprised.

The little guy was, not surprisingly, a total babe magnet. Of course, he's only in my life because I am married. I guess, from the perspective of a single woman, random-guy-with-a-baby (or, to a lesser extent, random-guy-with-a-dog) is probably a better bet than random-guy-at-a-bar, but I'd still have to think that the 'random guy' side of the equation still usually wins (well, loses) out, pretty much regardless of what random guy is doing.