You know the deep relief you feel when the kids are strapped in their car seats and unable to move… (as in not run away, get kidnapped or basically potentially disappear forever)? No? Nah, me neither…
As we are driving to the Swedish celebration of our national day, the kids compete who to yell the loudest in the backseat (and I must say, we have some pretty impressive contestants). Husband keeps telling me how incredible high volumed they both are…well, duh! Yes, I’m aware, I can HEAR them (he is just not quite used to this poor guy…not that you ever fully get there). I annoy even myself with my constant screaming at the 4-year old to stop and that he is not a baby anymore (gets old even to my own ears-who by the way are throbbing in agony).
The Park is celebrating 100 years (of course they are) and this week they celebrate the Filipino culture (we are just trying to steal a corner to celebrate Sweden) so parking turns out to be a nightmare (good thing we brought a good portion of our household with us). We give up finding a spot close enough to be able to walk, by sheer luck, early on and hubby let’s me out with both kids, stroller, diaper bag, cameras, blanket, handbag, picnic basket, toys…well, you get it). I’m silently wondering again how some moms make this look so easy (as they smoothly and classily stroll along without a wrinkle- on clothes or forehead…)
As in a miracle we are there early and put our blanket down while sonny actually stays close (new situation, lots of strangers) and baby girl cruises around the “parked” stroller (probably looking for food).
Their daddy makes it before we perform and is able to take our daughter while my boy and I climb up on stage. We sing, we sit in the grass with our friends, we eat and we laugh! Good times…until I get up to go change the baby’s diaper… (she is getting antsy and very loud anyways…)
I leave my boy with his father and I see that he is already riled up (the shorter one) running around with his little “girlfriend” (who happens to be watched by her daddy as well)…
When I get back with the baby (I wasn’t even gone that long), all I hear is that our son has decapitated the bull’s head…
Well, you see the poor, sweet Filipinos celebrating their culture next to us (sharing a lawn) had put up a huge bull statue (with a smaller bull next to it). I saw them proudly take pictures with it and show it off to each other, their kids and grand kids earlier in the afternoon.
Now after my kid has run into it several times (under his daddy’s supervision I may add) and after some pokes (in it’s butt…no comment…come on kiddos) followed by lots of laughter, our boy rammed it so hard, it’s head fell off (I bet they will never share a lawn with the Swedes ever again).
I am mortified and ask if my husband apologized (yes, naturally…), if our son meant to do that (the jury is still out…he is blaming his friend and takes zero responsibility), if I have to go talk to anyone? (Nope the damage is already done)…did my husband have to pay for it, fix it or actually manually remove it…? (No specific answer).
I have to get closer to take a look. It is definitely not fixed…at all.
There it is, the huge bull head laying sadly on the ground in front of the big bull body- completely detached!
I avert my eyes- what the heck happened? I leave for a matter of minutes…
So where you have it- proud moment! True story!
This week however has been filled of “last days of school”, isn’t this a beautiful time of year…and so special, almost nostalgic…my son will never have a last day of preschool again, well until next year…but you know this school year will never happen again. The 3-4 year olds are still so little, so young, so pure, innocent, sweet and just adorable. Just how adorable; well we knew lil man’s answers to his teacher’s questions in front of all the parents in the church would be eh…let’s say quirky but we didn’t expect this…