Anyway, we survived the last couple of weeks of school, complete with fun day:
If you give 11 boys a sponge relay, they will turn it into a sponge war. And it will be way more fun than a relay--even if it does get the parents in trouble with the teacher. We weren't exactly the best chaperones; they probably won't let me go on the class trip to D.C. when RJ is in the 5th grade. But it was totally worth it.
Paint the walls with water? Water fight! They might not let me go on the class trip to the pumpkin patch next year. Chaperones need discipline.
But fun? Yes. Yes, it was fun. The most fun. I hope these two have many, many more days that make them feel this happy.
We touched some trucks! (Which is way better than what RJ is usually touching, or GiGi for that matter--we're learning about personal space.). RJ loved it, for the most part. GiGi tolerated it, very begrudgingly. It was loud.
He wanted a picture in an Army truck to show his dad (who was out of town for the first time that RJ could remember). It was really loud.
Dad wasn't just out of town; he was out of the country. There were storms--really bad ones. This is how we slept for a week. I'll tell you I hated it. I'll tell you it was miserable and sleepless. But really, I wanted them there beside me where I could smell their sleepy heads and tickle their toes.
I have one rule about toys: No Power Wheels.
I may have promised GiGi a red convertible for her 16th birthday (and all the Oreos she can eat, to be paid immediately) if she sleeps through the night, but I was superseded. She hasn't slept through the night yet (my apologies to all the new moms out there--of course they sleep through the night! Eventually. When they're 5.).
It's excessive. It's unecessary.
It's absolutely the most fun they've ever had (and this includes Disney World), and grandparents are the best, bestest in the whole wide world. RJ even let his sister drive. Her legs are too short to reach the pedal--singular. So, big bro took charge; he took control of the gas, and she took the wheel.
They washed.
And scrubbed.
They got along for a blissful hour.
Every boy remembers his first car.
And, someday GiGi will be Miss America (after they turn it back into a classy pageant and bring back the one piece swimsuits, of course); so, it's good for her to practice riding on the back of a convertible.
GiGi's legs are almost long enough for her Hot Wheels.
Almost. She's not happy about the short fall. She's even more unhappy that we won't let her free fall from the top of the driveway to the street.
Here's the thing about digital photography: we can take a thousand pictures and delete the out takes leaving only the best of the best. But, sometimes, the best of the best isn't posed. It isn't a clean room or a perfectly posed hug. It's a view into the future of two best friends enjoying a drink together. (And yes, she's wearing his Crocs--she still has a thing for shoes).
Sometimes, the perfect picture just tells a story. This is a story of a little boy who played hard and napped harder.
I'm pretty proud of this. Mommy successfully took RJ to the store to pick out a tee ball helmet, and we picked a good one.
GiGi thinks so too--good thing, because Little Miss will be wearing her big brother's hand-me-downs for a while.
It is a tradition passed down for generations. The first frigid swim of the season.
But we did it! We swam. We conquered. We went home to warm showers.
And, the best part of the walk home?
"Mom, I'm making up a song. It's gonna make you laugh so hard, God will hear you. It's gonna be so funny you'll need a binky to stop it!"
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