I recently read a book (Lift by Kelly Corrigan) that echoed a lot of my thoughts on motherhood. One point she brought up was how you won't remember a vast majority of your childhood, but if there's pictures it becomes more likely we'll all remember it.
This weekend was one to remember. We had a great 4th of July. We packed in a trip to the drive-in to see Cars 2, borrowing grandpa's truck so you and your brother bounced around the entire time. None of us saw much of the movie, but it was fun all the same.
We also went to a neighborhood BBQ where you had the good idea to catch your brother when he came down the slide. Didn't end up being a good idea, and I am still trying to get the blood stains out of your tee shirt. But you handled it like a champ, and it was quickly forgotten.
We bought the cheap pack of fireworks from the grocery store (maybe some year your parents will be okay spending more $ on the good stuff, but not this one) and it was a hit every night before bedtime. You each got a pack of pop-its, and Mr. B you had to be up on dad's shoulders in order for your throw to pack enough punch (and thank you gravity) for yours to pop. I am sure the years are short when you'll be figuring out cool boy ways to pop those babies all on your own; no parental assistance needed.
And for the big neighborhood parade we decided to go big. So we jazzed out the jazzy. (Grandpa would've loved a patriotic ride, I am positive.) The look dad & I were going for was over-the-top. Dad spent some time testing out how to hook the wagon up to the jazzy properly with bungee chords. You decorated the wagon. It was one sweet ride. We made quite an impression on the new neighbors.
Although we were pretty proud of ourselves, both of you were actually...hm, slightly apathetic? No real bursts of emotions. Just happy to be there. And then I realized: you think behavior like this is completely normal.
And here she is: the Jazzy in action.
Your dad is so smart to figure out how she will look in motion when he was zip tying flag poles to the contraption. And, I hate to brag but I think its glaringly obvious that I am a Martha Stewart subscriber with those decorations. Makes a kid proud, I am sure.