Me and my boy

After discovering our swimming pool was closed, I decided Jory and I would run errands as a dynamic duo. It was as exciting as running errands can be, but it was nice spending some alone time with my big boy. He said he was hungry, so at the bread store he got to choose a Hostess treat of his choice. He chose the pink balls of sugary goodness and I got him some cookies n' cream milk to swish it down with.

My wishy-washy baby is gone. Once upon a time, I could tempt him with a few choices and I would ultimately have to choose for him, but no longer. He had a Ding Dong in his hand, but when he saw the pink balls he quickly put the Ding Dong back. I asked him if he was sure and he assured me he was. Never once did he regret his decision.

He's become a negotiator. "Why don't you get this instead of that, Mommy?" "What about this one, Mommy?" Sometimes I gave him the look, sometimes I ignored him because he was just being silly and ridiculous, and sometimes I took his suggestion.

And he's not so little anymore. He fell asleep on the way to the bank, so I opened the hatchback to get his flippy floppy wearing self out the Odyssey that way. Those 42 1/2 pounds are nothing like those six pounds he weighed as a newborn. But I carried him on one side and my purse on the other. I carried my baby. A baby who is not so tiny and not so short at 45". As I carried him back across the street, he giggled and said, "Ouch!"

"What's wrong?" I asked concerned.

"You're hurting me."

"How am I hurting you?"

"With your hip."

"Am I hurting your penis?"

He giggled. "Yes."

My baby can't even be carried on my hip when he's awake anymore. And my baby is talking to me about his penis. Time is definitely zooming by.