An observation.

It seems that baby gear is either completely boring (think solid black diaper bag or stroller), covered in licensed characters (it sort of looks like Whinney the Pooh exploded in at least one aisle in every baby store), or covered in some variation of a modern, slightly feminine, print that could pass off as potentially home made.

It has recently become very apparent to me that when I am given these three options, I go for door #3. Always.



Thus, when in public I sort of look like the dorm room decor aisle of Target threw up all over me. It's going to be really great looking back in 30 years or so, when damask is the twenty teens equivalent of bell bottoms and shag carpeting.

I'll toss in some cute Payneisms:

- Dan always ruffles Payne's hair and bats Payne's butt when he gets home from work. The other day, mid butt pat, Payne yelled "Daddy 'top it! My not a dog!".

- As I was getting him out of the car recently, I groaned "Ugh, Mama is draggin" (as in, I was tired) and he corrected me "Mommy, you not a dragon!". Silly Mommy...

- He was at Chick Fil A with his friend J.P. last week. As Aimee and I were talking Payne kept running up to me just crushed. His face was all crumpled up and he was sobbing, but he'd quickly recover and run off to play again. After the second time this happened we paid attention to see what was upsetting him. He walked over to J.P., who was actually eating his food like a good child, asked J.P. to play, and when J.P. very nicely said "No" (because he was busy eating at a restaurant) Payne was devastated, and repeated the sobfest for a third time. The boy can take all kinds of rough housing, but a polite "No" breaks his heart. Heh.