I’m realizing that the go-and-do-and-see part of our summer is all scheduled toward the end of summer, so we’ve subconsciously balanced it with some nice laid-back laziness (my early bedtime has earned me the nickname Grandma K)–hence June’s less frequent posts. In terms of the Fourth, that means less “Go big or go home” and more just “stay home.”
No worries. We accessorize it all up with some patriotic flair.
Also. This just in. New sequel to If You Give a Mouse a Cookie: If you give a kid a stick flag…he’s going to want to poke someone’s eye out with it.
Along with celebrating our ‘merican pride, we did summery fourthish things.
Water, fireworks, friends? Check, check, check.
And this one got her baby fix. If the baby cries and you take him from her, there is hell to pay. Hell, I tell you.
I’ve tended to lean towards “it’s worth it” when it comes to dragging the family out to make holiday memories–parades and fireworks shows, wagon trains and big crowds. I casually mentioned to Brett Friday morning though, “Want to hit the parade?”, and we both paused for all of three seconds before laughing. We kept going back and forth between thigh sweat/calming screaming babies after gun blasts/walking two miles from parking spot and staying in our pajamas/drinking coffee/watching the kids play from the comfort of our kitchen. Tough choice, I know. But, hello? Star spangled temporary tats. It’s almost like a parade, but without the thigh sweat.
Now for the new week. Giddy up, summer!