Make way for the slow bunny

I hadn’t really intended for this to turn into a once a week sort of thing, but that seems to be the pattern so far. I guess I need to make more of an effort. Of course, I’m not charging you people anything (yet), so I don’t really feel too much of an obligation.

Anyhoo, we spent last weekend (Easter weekend) at a B&B cabin house in Fredericksburg with my parents, my brother and my aunt from Wyoming who had flown in for a couple of days. We had a really great time despite the unseasonably cold weather which prevented us from having a real Easter egg hunt. The main attraction was seeing my aunt, who hadn’t seen The Boy since he was just eight months old.

The house itself was really cool, dating back to the late 1860s with a few “newer parts” added on around 1900 or so. They had done a nice job of restoring it and adding some unique touches, as well equpping it with some meddlesome cows, mostly indifferent sheep and an extremely friendly cat named Annie. She was so friendly, in fact, that she become good napping buddies with my dad.

Fredericksburg itself was pretty neat, but it was pretty quiet between the crappy weather and everything being closed on Easter Sunday. We did, however, see the best name for a store ever and what we can only surmise was the local Easter Tube. I found a new hat and The Wife found some time for her favorite leisure activity – balancing the checkbook. Add all that to never-ending plate of mini-sandwiches and the random toenail painting, it was a pretty good weekend.

If you’re tired of clicking on billions of links, you could just click here and see all the photos at once. Guess I could of told that up front. Sorry.

The B-word

I guess probably the hardest part about parenting is ultimately not being needed as much anymore. The Boy has really become quite the little man over the past year or so and now can handle himself as long as he doesn’t need to reach something higher than four feet or so.

Perhaps the saddest thing is his recent disdain for “babies” – which is apparently what they call the 2-3 year-old class at his school. As The Boy puts it, they “cry a lot” on the playground and wear diapers. It seems like only yesterday that he was wearing diapers and dependent on us to do everything for him. Now I generally just pour the milk on his cereal and make sure his pants are facing the right way before he heads to school. (The concept of tag-in-the-back has thus far eluded him.)

I guess that’s why I still indulge his last vestiges of babyhood – needing me to scare away the monsters before bedtime or holding him when he gets tired of walking at the store. This morning, we all played an extremely beginner-level game of Hide and Go Seek (he’d tell us where to hide and then yell out his own location when he was hiding) and it was a blast.

“Baby” used to be what he was. Now it’s just a four-letter word. Somewhere along the interstate, an Indian is crying. The end.