In a few years, "awesome weekends" may involve keg stands and ill-fated to trips to Vegas a la The Hangover.
I am not mentally or emotionally prepared for such weekends.
Weekends like this, however, I can celebrate.
Owen got to do a series of activities that were fun, one-on-one, and most importantly, brother free.
He went fishing on Friday with his Dad, and had a tee-ball game on Saturday morning.
So far so good.
Then, Saturday night, he and his dad went to the demolition derby.
Look---I can't even begin to understand this. Paying actual money to watch people crash their souped-up heaps into each other? I would sooner lick Dick Chaney's bald spot.
I had that gleam in my eye, which caused Paul to say, "If you write a snotty post making fun of good people, you're the worst kind of snob."
God. What a buzz kill. It would be so easy.
Of course, he has a point. Since I wasn't actually there, I would have to rely on him for material. And he's not sharing.
I guess I'll save it for when we go to the Monster Truck Rally. Which is, sadly, inevitable.
Today, to complete the weekend of awesome, Owen and I went to Children's Day at the Farm. It was 91 degrees and humid. Joel didn't go because he's a baby and he doesn't like the heat. Paul also wilts like a flower once it's higher than 75 degrees.
So, off we went.
We viewed the livestock. (Owen took the picture of the sheep. He already has a far better eye.)
I had one of those moments where you catch your breath and blink back the spontaneous tears. Owen shed his toddler skin so slowly, I didn't even mourn its passing.
I am so privileged to watch him grow.
Keep climbing, Buddy. I love you.
Thanks to Unknown Mami for hosting Sundays in My City