An ode to the noble Popsicle.
We drove up to Humboldt for the holiday. It was the first time my son could remember taking a vacation. It was the first time my husband had been up there.
It was our first four-person road trip.
First time with a sparkler. Lots of firsts.
It’s beautiful up there. And it’s 65 degrees, instead of 108.
Last week was miserable, with the heatwave.
It didn’t rain while we were there, though.
Baby blues. She didn’t quite trust the fireworks.
The baby was a trooper. The kids sang patriotic songs. We ate steak.
Happy Fourth of July!
We’ve been taking walks in the evenings, even though it’s still 90 degrees outside.
He says, “I like adventure walks.”
These are adventure walks because he gets to pick which direction we go in, when we reach the end of blocks.
He’s hit that age where nothing lasts long enough. We are never at the park long enough, the game is always over too soon, bed time is always too early.
He’s just eager to go and go and go.