I was on my own with them this week (Dan was shooting a wedding in flipping Cabo San Lucas. So jealous!), so we spent mass in the cry room. Payne was fairly good, mostly perusing the children's book selection. I was quite pleased! However, when we left the forgiving (and sound proofed) confines of the room to get in line for the Eucharist, all...um...all...Hades? broke loose. We were the very last people in line, so we were essentially on display. And then Payne lost function of this lower legs, poor thing. Spontaneous below the knee paralysis; it's such a common affliction in toddlers. I should start up a foundation for research on its behalf.
I had Genevieve in one arm, and I simply can't pick Payne up or carry him with a single arm anymore, so my options were to drag him by one of his arms (a valid option at McDonald's, not so much at our present location) or bluff, say "bye" and pray he gives a flip.
I bluffed. He crawled after me. He crawled down the aisle. He crawled up to the Deacon for his blessing. He crawled away.
There's potentially nothing more embarrassing than hearing the sound of a collective chuckle produced by hundreds in honor of one's offspring.
And now for something entirely unrelated...
This is Genevieve's car seat glower.
"I am tolerating this. I shall not scream because I'm getting a sort of road bump massage, but I shall not relax because I don't want to be in this damn bucket."
And this is Payne's car seat demeanor. (As usual, the blur is a side effect of toddler vibration)
The soundtrack goes something like "Mommy! What daaaaat? O'er dare? Mommy! I see Gnee Gnee and Pappy? I see Ganmom and Pop Pop? I go paaaaay? Mommy! Mine some coc-oh-at miowk? Mommy!"
I love them, so much. I really do.
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