Things my kid did in the last 24 hours.

in order of cuteness:

- Told me "My can't find it. My dno no!" complete with shrug and hands up "I don't know" sign, referencing his baby wipes. Adorable!

- Ate four and a half honey barbeque wings at Buffalo Wild Wings. Yer damn skippy!

- Poured water into one of the dog food bowls to make "cereal". Have you seen what dog food does after it's been turned into water cereal? (shudder)

Hmm.

Why is it that things always seem to devolve so thoroughly on Sunday nights?

He said what?

So Payne pulled a dinosaur out of his toybox today, glanced at it, and chirped "twi-sewa-ops!".



Whaaaat?!
(Rachel adds a few more bucks to the Ph.D. in Paleontology from Yale fund)

And then he did this:



(Rachel slides a few bucks from the Ph.D. fund into the Starbucks fund)

Also, a few random pictures of some back yard fun this evening!


The boy wanted to play too.


After a little coaching he threw the washers... mostly at our bedroom windows.

I could write a series of children's books about Piggy.

Book One: Piggy Goes to Market.

Well, that didn't come out right. Sounds sort of foreboding, or maybe like a single novel instead of a series. Hmm...

I feel the need to explain that I have a sort of religious dedication to strawberries when pregnant. Seeing as this is the beginning of strawberry season, it's possible I'm in the middle of a completely out of hand strawberry frenzy. Payne and I are on our own this evening, and I very simply required Pizza Hut and fresh strawberries for dinner. There was absolutely no room for compromise on this issue.

During the tail end of Payne's nap I ordered the pizza, and promptly went to wake him up. He wasn't ready. When awakened prematurely, Payne is generally in the most precarious of emotional states. A single false move can reduce him to a place of complete despair and self pity, as no single human has ever suffered before.

I wanted my Pizza and produce. This required taking Payne out in public by myself, and actually accomplishing a task. Game on. Naturally, this meant Piggy was going with us. Piggy not going with us wasn't an option unless I planned on carrying Payne into the store by his ankles as he screamed helplessly.

Therefore, Piggy did something he has never done before. He entered a public venue. Big day for him. Fortunately, he'd just come from a spin in the washer and dryer, so he was sufficiently primped for the occasion. I wasn't prepared for all of the looks we'd get, thinking a two year old strolling around with a comfort item wasn't a big deal. One little boy yelled from a cart "Doggy!" at Payne, and his Mom looked over, and corrected "No, that's a pig" with the most astonished look on her face, spiced with a little bit of shock or judgement or something. I can only assume this had to do with Piggy's color (and I thought we'd gotten past racial issues in this country!). I wanted to turn and tell her "Listen lady, my son carries a pink pig because domestic pigs are PINK! It's not girly. It's taxonomically accurate!" Hmph.

Once we got to checkout with my precious berry cargo, Payne made a beeline for the candy. I pulled him back. He screamed. I made comforting noises about Pizza. He was unresponsive. The grocery bags caught his attention though, so as I grabbed my single bag (too important to let Payne drag behind him to the car) I stole .02 cents worth of plastic and gave him a bag for Piggy. This was apparently the best idea ever. Payne was quite pleased with himself, although I'm not sure how Piggy felt about it.

After some more dashing around for the pizza pick up, the three of us safely made it home, and made a little picnic on the deck for ourselves.

By the way, the berry and pizza picnic was totally worth it.

Hugs and Kisses.

I'm completely eating up this stage with Payne. He loves to give and receive hugs and kisses whenever possible.

I have to say, there is nothing more endearing to see than one's husband sheepishly hugging a plastic brachiosaurus in the middle of church in order to quiet his son's demands.

We have to kiss Piggy good night when we kiss Payne good night. If Payne gets hurt we have to kiss the "boo boo" and he usually kisses it again himself for good measure. Of course, the proper treatment for all injuries for animals of the stuffed variety is a kiss as well. There's been a lot of inter species love around this house lately; dachshunds kissing Pigs, Dinosaurs kissing bears. It's wild around here. heh heh.

Aaaaand then we have moments like this.



He did not kiss the football. He sort of war screamed at it.
(That's me laying in the background)

more Funny Things My Kid Did:

Yesterday I asked Payne if he needed a fresh diaper and responded with "My biper has POOP!". Thank you, sir.

He wanted me to play "goff" with him last night, and handed me a "cub", but every time I tried to hit the ball he'd scoot around me and say "My turn!". Punk.

He was helping me dust and I (obviously) wouldn't let him spray the pledge, so he grabbed a little person airplane pilot, shook him violently while going "Ssssss!" and then rubbed the spot with his rag that he had juiced the poor pilot onto.

I'm not going to lie.

Sometimes my child creeps me out a little bit.

I have no idea if this is a universal thing, or if I'm just particularly ill prepared to deal with mini-people, but occasionally he scares me a little.

Normally it's when he does something particularly precocious.

When Payne was a little baby, he'd crawled down the hall once, and I yelled his name. He promptly whirled around and shot me a huge, completely socially appropriate grin. It was all "Heyyyy! I'm awesome!". I mean, he could have given me a thumbs up and it wouldn't have looked out of place. I didn't react with warm fuzzy Mom feelings, but rather was sort of repelled. It seemed too adult. It was creepy. I mean, how would you feel if you walked up to a puppy and it looked you square in the eye and gave you a firm handshake? Come on now.

I remember when Payne first started walking, seeing him toddle through a room out of the corner of my eye gave me the that sort of hackles raised feeling. Perhaps it was the stilted gait of it, or the fact that I went from having a relatively immobile baby (which makes them seem sort of sub-human) to having someone who could easily traverse larger distances. I dunno. It REALLY gave me chills when I didn't know he was a in a room, walked by it, and saw him wandering through it. I think I may be the freak here. heh heh.

The most recent "my kid is creepy" incident happened this morning. I went to get him out of his room, and found this:



So, apparently, sometime in the middle of the night, my child got up, procured some books, and shoved them under his door. The behavior of a future sociopath? Likely not. However, thinking about how I would have reacted if I'd been standing near his door when this happened got me all creepy feeling. Seeing a book suddenly slide under the door of a child who you had previously assumed was sleeping is freaky...and a little "Jurassic Park Velociraptors" if you know what I mean. Also, I feel like I should get him a little tin cup to drag across his walls. I'm NOT getting him a mirror. The last thing I need is that sliding under the door at 7 a.m. (shudder).

I love the zoo.

I mean, like, I kid love the zoo. I mostly use my son as an excuse to go, and I about jumped off of the couch in an expression of pure joy when we recieved a family membership to the zoo for Christmas.

The weather was FINALLY good enough to go when we were free, so off we went.


He's actually old enough to climb the zoo fence now! He quickly got frustrated, though, and his Dad "howped" him out.

They spent 90% of the rest of the day like this: Bless sweet Dan (and his back).

I love them. Payne was totally into it. He kept leaning down to talk to Dan about what they were looking at (read: screaming directly into Dan's left ear).



Payne observed lots of "Mon-ees" (monkeys).

Oh, and yes, Payne has had several Batman shirts and is wearing one in these photos. I'm sort of obsessed, and have my own shirt as well. Unfortunately, I can't model in that oh so appealing " Mother and Son Twinsies!" way because mine doesn't fit right now. Your loss!


Dan and I sitting while Payne ran himself ragged on the playground.


There's even a "wide"!


He's looking disgruntled here because the other kids were brushing goats, and woefully, he was on the wrong side of the fence to partake in the action. He made a break for it shortly thereafter, yelling "My bruss too!".

Ah, it was a good day with my boys.

From the frying pan into the fire.

We recently took on the challenge of separating Payne from his beloved "nigh nighs". It broke our hearts to remove his most treasured comfort object, but his dentist said his bite was being affected by sucking on them in his sleep.

In a state of complete dread, we began "Operation Blanket Removal". The first 24 hours were tough, but we held fast. Surprisingly, it only took about two days for him to adjust. The slight issue comes in with HOW he adjusted.

Meet Payne's minions:



Now, Piggy and Puppy we're all familiar with. The newly aquired members of the gang are Bear, Giraffe, and Bunny (bunny was at his Grandparent's house during the photo shoot). I guess Payne is reinforcing the ranks to, um, strengthen his defenses against the forces of nightime evil? Now that the all powerful blanket shield is gone, proper adjustments in the line of defense must be made!

He sleeps with them all, and it's a struggle to get him to leave the house without the entire gang. He carries them smushed together, with his arms wringing all of their little necks. Poor souls.

If he starts sucking on them at night I may have to be committed.

A short chronology.

Sunday Morning:

The word "dapper" comes to mind.

Sunday Evening:

The word "dapper" doesn't come to mind.

Monday Morning:

Oh Honey, I'm right there with you.

The evolution of Mommy.

I've been summoned by quite a few names since Payne started verbalizing his needs.

The first was "Da!", generally screamed from his crib and roughly translated to "Nearest competent adult! I'm in need of assistance!"

Then came "Ma!". Hooray! He loves me and put forth the supreme effort of the "mm" sound to tell me so!

"Mom Mom" followed, which I loved. The most frequently uttered phrase for awhile was "Dee doo Mom Mom" meaning "Here you go Mom". It was cute enough that I didn't mind I was constantly being handed crumbs, shreds of paper, or bits of dog toy stuffing.

Now I've graduated to "Mommy" (throws cap in air), but Payne says it more like "Mah-mee!". I generally like it, but I had my first experience with what Dan and I call the "Lois" (Family Guy Reference. Sorry Mom.).


Payne: " Mah-me! Mah-me! Mah-me!....Maaaaah-me! Maaaah-me! Maaaaah-meeeeee!"

Me: "WHAT! What is it Payne?!"

Payne: "Um"....(profuse gibberish)


Since alcohol is out, this may drive me to increased consumption of caffeine and artificial sweeteners. It's a good thing he's cute.

Funny stuff of the day.

Today Payne and I stayed in for the most part. It's cold and I wasn't feeling motivated to run around, so I had a cleaning day instead.

What is a boy to do when his Mom is vacuuming and he doesn't have a mini-vacuum? Why, a golf bag looks strikingly similar...





Yep. He followed me around the entire house "vacuuming" right behind me. He even knows to yell at the dogs to be quiet throughout the process. They enjoy barking at and occasionally attempting to bite the vacuum. Payne was periodically stopping his vacuum and yelling "Dewwa! Eddow! Noooo!". I'm such an awesome role model.

I was folding laundry and Payne was puttering around. He stopped for a second to look in on me, saw I was folding a receiving blanket, gasped loudly and said in what can only be described as a tone of complete reverence "nigh nigh!". Little addict.

We went on a short trip to the grocery store and I saw a coloring book based on his favorite cartoon (Dinosaur Train), so I grabbed it. He was looking at it as we left the store and pointed at one of the Pterosaurs on the main cover and said "Tiny!". Um, that's the very specific name of that very specific character! There are FIVE of them on the show and they all look almost exactly the same! So, err, how early can one qualify for MENSA membership? (cough, cough).

I end this disorganized post with a random photo. Ta-Da!


A Tupperware top hat? Awesome! Or, as Payne would say "D'ass coo!"


See ya later!

Oh My Cute...

Is there anything more adorable than two pajama'd toddler boys immensely enjoying the company of one another, while sharing two identical stuffed rabbits?

I think not.


Right before this they were pointing out the different designs on their jammies to each other. I died.


The "artfully distressed" rabbit is the one J.P. loves the most. Go figure.

Why did we not better capture the cuteness, you ask? Well, as Dan so aptly put it: Getting a photo of two busy little boys that are hopped up on Super Bowl junk food in which both are looking at the camera and no one is moving at mach 5 speed to blur the image, is the domestic equivalent of getting video footage of the rare snow leopard taking down a mountain goat...in a blizzard.

I'm dedicated, but not so dedicated as to camp out in Aimee and Jason's living room for months, living on freeze dried chili, while aiming my camera at all juvenile life form activity from behind a potted plant.

I'll happily take my blurry memento of these two buddies. They were so much fun to watch!

Haaaaa ha ha ha! (deep breath...snort)

Nice gams, kid.

I may or may not have laughed until I drooled when Payne clicked out of my closet in my ballet wedges.

We took pictures, and then we got him some more manly shoes to play with because Dan and I were both getting a little weirded out. Heh heh.

Cartoons are best watched

while completely engulfed in a sofa cushion, didn't you know?

Hell, after seeing this, I want a giant pillow under which to watch t.v.

From the mouths of babes...

So I was talking about the dogs in the car on the way home from dinner tonight.

A wee little voice piped in from the carseat with this:

"Bad dogs poop."

Wise words Son. Wise words...

Happy Birthday to Daddy!

You know you've become completely enveloped in parenthood when you're singing Happy Birthday to your husband, and the two of you are looking at your son for his reaction. And of course, the beloved progeny must help to blow out the candle. Then the real Birthday Boy cheers for HIM!




Dan polished off this fabulous celebration by filing for our tax return. Ha!

I tried to teach Payne to say "Happy Birthday Daddy!" and it came out more like "Abby Budnudah DaddEEE!". Fortunately Dan still appreciated the effort.


P.S. I had to share this awesome photo that Dan snapped of Payne while I was at work the other night. The blogger uploader recognizes when a human face is flipped sideways and will correct it automatically. Um, I had to manually correct this one. heh heh.


It's good to see "the face" on film again.