I Love a Parade

The answer to where my son got all that cute?



Hey, handsome! Cheers.

We had fun at our little suburban version of a Memorial Day parade. I was so relieved that Johnny didn't freak out at the sirens or guns, or the f'in clowns. Uncle Tim would have collapsed into a tiny puddle of WIGGED when the clowns marched by, so that my kid remained stoic is worth mentioning.

Things continue to be terrific around here- Johnny is a whirlwind of object identification and listening to him try out sentences is amazing. He'll take his hat off, throw it on the floor and say, "hat! Where go?" He loves to count, although he has never met a number higher than two, and he learned how to do a cartwheel tonight. Our neighbor Kate (John calls her "Cake" and may he NEVER learn how to correctly pronounce it- her brother Pete is called "Peep," Could you die? I could die!), does a mean cartwheel, and Johnny joined her by raising his arms up in the air, and throwing himself to the ground majestically. Hilarious. Equally hysterical is when he leans down to smell the flowers. He blows a puff of air out his mouth, and says "mmmmmmm."

I wish I were better at recording all of the things he is doing now. I think I am better at just watching. Well, watching and marveling. May the marveling never stop.