Just think how excited I'll be when he starts walking...

The day the Pretend Husband and I flew into Georgia for our nephew Peyton's baptism was the day the little guy mastered the art of clapping (uh, perhaps I should clarify that Peyton is the little guy here, not the PH). So, as soon as he showed off his new talent, I cheered, "Yaaaaay, Peyton!" And, because I want to encourage this skill (let's face it, at eight months, he doesn't have many of them yet), I cheered each and every time he clapped.

Clap, clap.

"Yaaaaay, Peyton!"

Peyton giggles.

Clap, clap.

"Yaaaaay, Peyton!"

Peyton giggles.

Clap, clap.

"Yaaaaay, Peyton!"

Peyton giggles.

Clap, clap.

"Yaaaaay, Peyton!"

Peyton giggles.

Clap, clap.

"Yaaaaay, Peyton!"

Peyton giggles.

And on and on and on... I wish I had counted, but I seriously think I cheered, "Yaaaaay, Peyton!" about 500 times in the six days we were there. To the point where kat's lil sis thinks the first time he claps after we leave, he's going to look around like, "Uh, hello? I clapped! Where's that lady who cheers for me?"

Don't get me wrong, I would cheer for Peyton 500 more times if it meant getting to spend time with him. But I am going through some withdrawal from all that encouragement... and I think the PH is wondering why I stood outside the bathroom door this morning cheering him on.