Just Pray He Takes After Mark's Side of the Family

When I got up this morning, my dad had sent some pictures of Nathan's first day visiting them. I smiled when I saw him playing in the woods, throwing a huge exercise ball in the house (um, Dad? not allowed), and heard of their plans to ride the train into downtown Charlotte today.

But what is it about other people's cameras that make my baby look way less like a baby, and completely like a little boy? This happened last time he was out of town, and now here's Exhibit B:So, it looks like they're having fun, and Nathan is adjusted just fine to being at Grandpa's, and get I can get on with my day comforted by the knowledge that Nathan is happy and safe. But then (THEN!) my heart jumped into my throat a little lot, because yes... that's my baby, on a motorcycle.

Oh, the things we should not have to deal with before our kids our teenagers.

Don't worry, I'm certain he didn't actually ride on the motorcycle. He just likes cars and trucks and tractors and boats and blimps and bikes and pretty much anything that goes. So sitting on it would have been exciting enough for little Nathan (and might have even been a little intimidating).

If you look a little closer, you will see that Nathan is also still wearing his pajamas. That's right, he's wearing his pajamas on a motorcycle. What you can't see in the picture is that those pj's have prisoner stripes and say Fugitive from Alcatraz (or something along those lines).

Here's the thing, though. If you let your grandkid sit on a motorcycle in your driveway dressed in convict pj's early on a random Wednesday morning... you might be a redneck.

Yeah, I said it.