Fourth of July is my favorite holiday. I like it even more than Christmas, though it's close. I like hot dogs and fireworks and picnics and parades and most of all, warm weather. Sorry, Christmas, you'd be number one if I could wear a tank top on Christmas morning. And like Christmas, my day started in a sea of little pieces of paper and tape. The kids decorated their bikes/strollers for the annual neighborhood parade. They were quite enthusiastic.
The parade was a hit. A whiny, chaotic hit, but a hit nonetheless. It was so much fun to see the neighborhood out with their decorated bikes.
Me: Is this skirt too short? Ryan (without looking): Absolutely not.
When the firetruck turned on its siren, it was time to go and they were off, FAST!
The walk took forever because Charlie served as the neighborhood parade candy patrol and had to stop his bike every eight inches to pick up another freaking Laffy Taffy (gag), but everyone was in good spirits when we got to the park, which marked the end of the parade route and also the place where the firemen spray the kids with the hose every year.
Charlie charged right in. Wes was still feeling punky because he fell off his bike and a fireman had to help him up because the rest of us were so excited about the water we kept walking without noticing him until we were a good fifty yards away. Poor middle child.
Later he rallied and agreed to go get sprayed only if I would join him. The water felt amazing since it was ten AM and already in the mid nineties. He refused to put down the Smarties.
After that we went to the fire station for the Boy Scout pancake breakfast. Ryan looked at this picture and exclaimed "Wow. That is a lot of kids."
James was super tired but managed to eat a pancake the size of his torso and a bunch of sausage. And all of my orange juice.
We have been going to this pancake breakfast since Charlie was James's size and every year we take a picture on the fire truck. Here's smooshy little Charlie when he was twenty months old and the king of the castle. We knew Wes was on his way, but he did not.
Wes joined the party the next year and we risked his life in the hands of a two-year-old so we could get this picture.
Next year: still-baby Wes and almost a big boy Charlie.
2011 we missed because we were on an airplane to Maine, so this one is funny because SURPRISE! A TODDLER!
That one was my favorite. James is just so happy to be included, even though he couldn't really breathe.
Happy Fourth of July!