Sunday, August 4th, 2013
2 years, 8 month.
At one point last week on our family vacation in California, I ended up becoming the official “adult in charge of all the kids” for about an hour.
It just so happened that you and your cousins discovered the random packs of balloons sitting on a shelf in the garage… along with the water hose behind the house.
Who was I to deny your rights to create and destroy water balloons?
My motto is that “it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than it is for permission.”
I wasn’t sure if Grandma, or any of the other parents of your cousins, would have a problem with it, but I took my chances.
Turns out, Grandma (Mommy’s Mommy) later told me that’s why those balloons were there- to make water balloons.
Look at this picture of you holding one. It’s hilarious, ridiculous, and pretty awesome, actually.
You look like an Austrian weight lifter.
I started out by making you legitimate sized water balloons, but I could tell you wanted more of a challenge.
So I started filling them up so full of water that you could barely carry them, because you were so inspired to keep them from dropping and bursting, that it become like a competition to you.
Or at least good ole fashioned manual labor.
And it wasn’t just the water balloons.
You took great pride each day in washing your Thomas the Train tricycle.
I mean… your monster truck.
If I had to calculate the percentage of time you spent actually riding it versus how much time you spent giving it a wash, I would say 30% riding versus 70% washing.
So that means the majority of the time you were “playing” with your tricycle, you were technically working instead.
When it comes to playtime, you don’t play around.
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