Thursday night we drove off into the sunset to watch a baseball game. It was Nirvana for Henry.
Friday we celebrated freedom with a bbq, fireworks and a little chat about what it means to be free; it proved more difficult than I anticipated to explain the concept to a three year old...
Me: Henry, do you know that it's the 4th of July and we're celebrating our freedom?
H: Oh. Freedom? What's freedom?
Me: Well, freedom means we're not trapped or captured. It means we get to run and jump and play and do what we want to do.
H: Oh, like run and play football?
Me: Yeah, we're free to do what we want to do. And today we get to celebrate that freedom.
H: Oh. But what does that mean? Freedom?
Me: Well, when you're in time out, you're not free. You can't do what you want to do. But when you make good choices, you're free.
H: Oh yea, dat's why we need'a make good choices.
Attending a BBQ with friends that afternoon was a very good choice. Drinking the watermelon lemonade -- also a great choice. Watching the city fireworks? Best choice of the day. Fireworks are as magical and captivating to me now as they ever were. I love them.
But the weekend wore us to a frazzle, I'm afraid. I already established the fact that I'm stuck in a perpetual state of sleepiness -- and look at my boys...
eyelids sealed, heads a bobbin' half-way through Henry's bedtime story on Sunday night.
That's just how we do things around here.