Why is it that things always seem to devolve so thoroughly on Sunday nights?
So Payne pulled a dinosaur out of his toybox today, glanced at it, and chirped “twi-sewa-ops!”.
(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!
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.
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)
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.
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 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.
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).
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!
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.