and he's gonna hate me when he reads this someday.
I turned the big three-oh today. Oh yes, and I can't say I'm thrilled. I'm putting on a brave face, though. A brave face complete with smile lines. Ha.
So we had to go to the DMV this morning for a new drivers license photo (Thanks, state of Texas. It's like they went "Oh, she's 30 now? That requires a new picture, for sure").
Obviously I didn't go early because, well, who in their right mind visits the DMV with any motivation outside of complete and utter necessity?
We were quietly facing off with my selected government employee, doing that silent and attentive but avoiding eye contact thing, when Payne farted.
I tried not to laugh. Mr. DMV displayed an impressive poker face, and then Payne leaned towards me from his chair and very conspiratorally whispered "Dat was me" and started giggling and muttering quiet little unintelligible jokes to himself that were all punctuated with the word "toot".
This evening I was helping him wash his hands in the bathroom when he reached over and flipped on the exhaust fan. He confidently informed me "D'ere. Dat wihw get de stink out".
Ah, the mind of a 4 year old.