Zacho Polo

I am a paparazzo. Zach is an a-list celebrety. In an all too familiar scene, the media hound is attempting to snap photos of America's favorite and as usual he crawls over immediately and places his hand over the lens to calmly request, "No pictures please.". Well, actually it comes out as, "Dadadadadadadadadada", but I'm pretty sure it means the same thing.
Our newest crawler is busy making up for lost time like a recently graduated college student who, after having eaten ramen noodles for the last 4 (to 6) years, finally sits down to a viking sized feast with the main course being a genetically hybrid lobster-cow. He began by investigating Amelia's dolls in their toy tram for a little while, decided that may not be his thing, and went straight for the toy shelf. After pulling all the bottom shelf toys out onto the floor and lifting them into his mouth to see how they taste, he set off yet again to pursue the cat. Hagbard, of course, wanted only to go outside and no part of the hair pulling that Zachary offered. I obliged him for the sake of us all. With all of the excitement surrounding his newfound ability comes the inevitable problem of not wanting to stop and just take a rest. After resisting slumber in his pack n' play as long as he could, he realized that a couple of z's might not be the worst thing and succumbed to the sandman's beckoning.