Today we celebrated a cool front of 96 degrees in the midst of steaming hot hundred degree days. It felt exceptional.
Weston's mouth is breaking out again. He's been binky free solid for over a week. I guess that throws out my "allergic to the plastic in his binky" theory.
Waylon was extremely whiny today, but only got "in one troubles at Lisa's today". Success!
I can't get over Wyatt. How much he grows from one day to the next. Tonight it seemed like his legs never ended and he is riding that bike like he's been doing it for years. I swear I saw a little six pack in his mid section.
Tonight things were good. No ridiculous amount of yelling or frustration, just normal every day straighten up boys kind of day.
The three of them stood out there by our small drying pond. Pops and sparks going off left and right. Shooting off little fireworks with their dad is something I'm sure they will always remember. Weston can't get himself locked in my legs any tighter. He wants to be there but HAS to hold on tight.
I watch them. Being brothers. Being sons. I take the pictures in my mind trying to grasp onto their chubby cheeks and recording the sounds of their voices.
I whispered in Wyatt's ear and asked if he wanted to take another bike ride despite the quickly approaching darkness.
We set out on our bikes over the railroad bridge and into the neighborhood. Neighbors sat out quietly enjoying the weather. We talked about pushing through when we feel tired so we can continue to get stronger and better. He is making it up the hills farther and farther. His frustration showing less and less.
He rides in front of me. Smooth, in line, strong. I admire how far he has come in just a week.
"Mommy, I did it. I'm making it up the hills."
You are buddy! You are doing so awesome.
He talks about gravity and momentum and uses them correctly talking back to me about how he is getting down the hills so fast. He talks about going around the block and how good the air feels in his face.
He stops to itch his skin from playing in the grass earlier. He picks his undies from his rear and laughs every single time.
"Man, they just keep going back up there."
"I know, mom. I know I can make it up this hill no problem."
He tells me how much he likes crossing bridges on bikes. I tell him how much I love the smell of a late summer night and he responds like one of my best friends reminiscing about our childhoods.
We chase the darkness to get back to the house before daddy worries. We almost make it coasting down the hill together. Me right behind him.
We race up the hill of our driveway and he begs about tomorrow's ride and drinking Gatorade because it makes him so thirsty. "Whew!"
We enter the house with a relationship a little bit stronger than the last time we stood in our family place. He begs to stay up. To stay at our sides a little bit longer. I pray that he will always want to stay just a little bit longer.