Muscle Man.

Payne was running around with only a diaper on this evening (because he'd completely covered himself in meat sauce at dinner). He ran into our bathroom, stepped on the scales, looked down at the number, and shouted "I have pounds!".

Tee Hee!

Here's the fighter right after his weigh in:



Gosh, he is looking SO old.

I think this is officially funny now.

It took a few days.

I was saved by a doggy door on Monday.

Sunday night I locked the door to the garage, which isn't typical. On Monday morning I went to throw a diaper in the trash and waltzed out there without a care in the world. I spun around to open the door (it's weighted and swings closed behind you) and realized it was locked. I believe the first phrase uttered was "Oh f*ck" (sorry Mom).

Payne was inside watching cartoons and blissfully unaware that I was locked out. At first I searched the garage for an implement with which to pick the lock, but after several attempts it occured to me that one has to KNOW how to pick a lock to be succesful. Damn.

My next idea was to go around the front and try to get Payne to unlock the deadbolt on the front door for me. I rang the doorbell and he trotted up and was all "Oh heyyyy Mom!" I tried to yell and mime what I wanted, for him to push the ottoman up to the front door and stand on it to unlock the door. After the fifth yell of "Ottoman!" he chirped "Oh!" and ran off purposefully. I was hopeful. However, his cartoons distracted him and no matter how many times I rung the doorbell he wouldn't come back. Curse you Elmo!

My next plan was to trot through the backyard (in my bare feet and pajamas) and try to get Payne to open the back door by yelling instructions through the doggy door. Now, the doggy door is actually a cat door, so you can imagine how hilarious I looked. I was head down, butt up on the patio yelling to Payne through a hole about 8 inches across. I got him to push a kitchen chair up to the door, but I couldn't get him to understand the part about unlocking it. He got confused and started to cry. Mysteriously, my arm projecting through the door Cousin It style and patting his foot didn't soothe him.

At this point I started eyeing the limestone blocks that line our flower beds. But then an epiphany! My phone was on the kitchen counter! Payne was still crying but had been sucked back into the plight of Super Grover, so I had to start crooning to him through the dog door again; "Hey buddy. Will you get Mommy's phone? It's in the kitchen!". The poor thing perked up at the mention of words he understood completely so he exclaimed "Phone! Kitchen!" and started scanning the counter. He found it and (Thank Baby Jesus!) could reach it. Then he handed it to me through the dog door. This made me burst into tears in relief, which of course made him start crying again. Ugh.

I called my Mother, who has a spare key to our house and she came right over. As I waited for her I stood at the front door and watched Payne try to drown his sorrows with PBS, but it wasn't working well, poor thing. Then my savior showed up, let us in, and scooped up Payne while I ugly cried for a little while. Payne's mood greatly improved with a sippy cup of milk and a pumpkin muffin. If only I was so easily soothed!

Fun morning, eh?

Another edition of Funny Stuff My Kid Said.

- This afternoon I was, um, clearing the backyard of biological refuse. Payne was following behind me saying "Dog poop....mo dog poop..." and, when confronted with what I suppose was a less than impressive sample, exclaimed " baby dog poop!". I'm thrilled to know someone enjoyed that chore.

- Everything size related is not "big, medium, or small", it's "Daddy, Mommy, or Baby". Today I was handed three leaves. The big leaf was "Daddy weef", the medium size leaf was "Mommy weef" and the little leaf was "Baby weef".

- Right before bed tonight we were talking about Baby Sister in Mommy's tummy, and I mentioned that she would come out eventually. Payne focused his gaze on my stomach, furrowed his little brow, and shouted "Baby come'ere!" while furiously motioning the "come here" sign with both hands, at my stomach. Ha!

Also, he insisted on going to dinner looking like this tonight:



He stole that super sexy hat from me. Harumph.

He stirs...

The other morning I was up before Payne, so I actually managed to go and get him as soon as he yelled for me.

This is how I found him:



Notice Piggy and Doggy tucked into his armchair with him. Kindly fail to notice the torn out corner of a page from The Berenstain Bears.

When I walked in and started laughing he looked up and announced "Bunn-ee kwhy-in!". (On the illustration on that page there is a baby bunny in a wagon that is crying) Heh heh!

I wonder what else he does in complete silence in the mornings...

Bluebonnets!

So every March or April we take Payne out to Brenham to take his picture with the bluebonnets.

Year One:

(look at the little babyyyyy!)

Year Two:

(some super nice photography on the part of Dan)

Unfortunately this year Dan is out of town for quite awhile during prime bluebonnet season, so I asked my parents to take us up there for some photographs. Photographs taken by me. Dun dun dunnnnn.....

Year Three:


"Oh my gosh you finally let me out of the car!"

"Cliiiimb every mountaaaaain...."

"Foooord every streeeaaaam."


"Follow every hiiiighwaaaay!"


"tiiiiil youuuuu fiiiind yoooouuuur dreeeaaaam!"




(Payne with his beloved Pappy, or as he says "Paddy")

I'm not sure which is better...

When my child farted silently in church, but screamed "MY TOOT!", or shortly thereafter when he farted loudly but very nicely whispered "my toot".

And then he let another one rumble and just loudly cracked up at himself.

Either all of the people around me were deaf (a distinct possibility at a Saturday evening mass) or equipped with levels of stoicism I lack.

Note to self: No more dispensing of large snacks of apple slices directly before entering places of worship.

Damn. He's on to me.

Earlier today I asked Payne if he wanted to go get a drink with Mommy before nap time.

Payne's answer: "Mommy dot coat!"

I'm ashamed to translate: "Mommy Diet Coke!"

Crap. I guess hiding the evidence by throwing the cups into the garage garbage can won't do me any good now.