Sweatshirts & Questions.

Here's Rye frustrated that he can't get his hands pulled into his sleeves correctly. A major victory that he's wearing a sweatshirt at all, really.

Earlier this week, the two of us were in Target. I was looking at electric razors and he was asking a few of his favorite questions 10 or so times each. The women cruising the aisles around me browsing hair driers, moisturizers, and nail polish were all giggling and smiling appropriately. Then we reach the "Daddy, do you have a penis?" question with volume set to 8 or 9. I can't hold in my own laughing, but the women shopping at Target in earshot were all true pros. They kept it all inside, slowly spinning and walking away casually. I replied: "Yes, I do, but maybe we shouldn't talk about it here."