Charming

I sold most of my baby stuff over the winter. Some of the items were a little hard to let go but I accomplished the task. This made the state of the garage much more manageable. Yesterday I was out there attempting to organize it. As I moved some of the boxes around I stumbled upon my stash of maternity clothes. Lemme just tell you that I don't think anything could make my uterus flip flop more than looking through that wardrobe. There's a pair of pants that still has a tag! They're practically begging to be worn. This is because Garrett was born in sweltering July and I didn't wear maternity clothing until early May. Pants weren't really a necessity.

But the point is that my womb did the jitterbug. It was all like, "Whoa, there hasn't been an occupant in here for almost five years! What cute clothes. Let's wear them!" And I was like, Dude, Womb, get a life. You couldn't wait to stop wearing those clothes and get back to your normal size and have your baby already!

This baby. Hi baby!

He's, um, not really a baby. He's already asking for money to go to college on the wagon ride at Wheeler Farm.

And he'll only sometimes humor me with a smile when I point the camera at him. Especially when he has better things to do. Like eat an apple. And feed the ducks. And pet the goats. And play in the tree house.

Yesterday he asked me why all my clothes were in a box. I told him they were maternity clothes. "Huh?" He asked with a puzzled look on his face.

"Pregnant clothes."

"Oh. When I was a baby in your tummy. So they're your fat clothes?"

Charming, son. Really. Try that one on your wife someday. And good luck with that. Let me know how it works out for you.

"I'll try it on her," he thinks. "And then I'll flash her this when she least expects it."

Because, let's face it, he's been charming from the beginning.

Sigh. If that future wife is anything like me, it'll be infatuation, blind adoration, all consuming crazy insane love at first sight.