He fought McDonald’s, and McDonald’s won.

This is the face of a thoroughly knackered child.

(too bad the ketchup smear battle scars aren’t visible in this picture)

Thank you gaggle of little boys who sucked my son into an inane and nonsensical game of bouncing off of play equipment only to fall over “dead” while giggling uncontrollably.

Thank you fast food for your oh so relaxing combination of fat and salt.

Thank you management for having WiFi in a play area, so I could entertain myself for the nearly two hours I let Payne run like a wild animal through your carefully designed cage, er, I mean play room.

As I sit relaxing into the third hour of my not so great napper’s nap, I can safely say:

McDonald’s, you earned that nine dollars I spent in your establishment today. Bless you.

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The Wonky Toe.

Feet phobics beware!

Now those are toes only a Mother could love.

He’s not splaying out his foot weird here. This is how his foot actually looks when he’s standing. His pinkie toe lays completely sideways on both feet. I keep waiting for his pediatrician to notice and tell me he needs toe braces or something, but so far we’ve been spared.

These mutant toes actually interfere with our daily life (heavy sigh). I have to shop very carefully for sandals, because most have a slot or hole in the near vicinity of the pinkie toe. That’s fine if your kid’s toe doesn’t have the propensity to shoot sideways out of the hole! Payne had a pair of sandals last year that he barely wore because when he did so I spent all of my time tucking his pinkie toes back into his shoes. I think it’s possible to understand my dedication to this activity when you think about how freaky his toes sticking sideways out of his sandals actually looked.

Maybe I should should have toned down the aspartame consumption when I was pregnant with him…

No pictures this time…

I don’t want to get reported to the authorities.

Tonight, for the second time in recent history, my son got down on all fours after his bath, yelled “Mine Frog!” (I’m a frog) and then frog hopped and ribbited around the house. His “ribbit” is impressively accurate and raspy.

All of this was done stark naked.

He is always nude when struck with the inspiration to be a frog.

My Morning.

As I hover in front of the coffee pot willing the damn thing to drip faster, I look over and realize someone is staring at me from the kitchen bar.

What are you looking at? It’s decaf, ALRIGHT?

Shortly thereafter, I’m summoned by “Mommeeeee! I got Cocs!” and am greeted with this:

Note the duckling look I mentioned yesterday. Classic!

The boy loves his "Cocs".

Yes, you read that right.

(stares innocently)

What? Ohhhh, you’re waiting for an explanation? I suppose I could oblige.

Payne was gifted some Crocs, of which I’m normally not a fan, but these are pretty cute as far as rubber gardening shoes go. I added them to his shoe lineup with the intention of occasional use.

Boy met Crocs. Boy put on Crocs himself. Boy fell in looooove.

He begs for them, his precious, precious “Cocs” (that’s not embarrassing in public at all!). He loves to put them on, often backwards, which creates a charming duckling look. He loves to talk about them.

“MY Cocs….my NEW Cocs!….Cocs Mommy!…..Go get Cocs!”

All other shoes have been pushed by the wayside. I’ll even hide the Crocs and try to pull out another pair for the day, and Payne just looks concerned and asks “I find Cocs?”.

No really, he took a nap with them the other day.


This face says “Take them off and I cut someone…”.

Baby Sitter.

We just found out yesterday that Payne is going to have a baby sister. Hurrah! Naturally, after our last experience, we were a bit gun shy about finding out the sex, but we got some very convincing (or perhaps offensive?) pictures of girl parts.

So my Mom was watching Payne during the appointment, and I had this adorable (in my mind) idea to get him to tell her the sex of the baby when we went to pick him up.

We get there, I drag him outside and say “Let’s tell Granny you’re going to have a baby sister! When we go in, yell “Baby Sister!” at Granny, ok? Remember…”Baby sister!””. Payne looks psyched.

We re-enter the house, Payne looks at my Mom and says “Imgummarwarbumbrillumabababysitter…”

My Mom: (blink…blink)

Me: “Say it again buddy!”

Payne: “Imgumma…um…(noises uninterpretable as English characters)babysitter.”

My Mom: “Baby Sister?!”

Payne: (blink…blink)

Me: (feeling the need to save the moment) “Yes! Yaaaay!”

So yeah, not exactly what I had in mind. heh heh. I’ve been working with him about “Baby sister” ever since, and he’ll definitely say it, but it always comes out “Baby sitter”.

“Mine have baby sitter!” is just a little anticlimactic for me! Harumph.

And all of her ultrasound photos (besides the, um, personal one) look like this:

Isn’t she adorable? (Nervous smile) I think i learned the hard way to request a face profile photo of a baby in-utero. The head on ones look a bit, how shall I say…terrifying.

Sorry Nugget! You’re simply gorgeous to us anyway, and we already love you so much!