Our fourth of July weekend was spent down at the beach with Tyson's parents. It was good food and sun and sand with star spangled banners and flags draping almost every front porch. On Saturday morning my mother-in-law, the finest in all the land, treated the two of us to a spa pedicure where I switched my usual midnight blue out for a pale pink, in honor of our little baby lady. And they really got in there, man. With the calf rubs and stuff? The last time I got a pedicure I was about 6 months pregnant with Everett, so like, the heavens opened and the angels sang, etc. In the evenings we went on walks and talked with the water lapping at our feet until it was too dark to see. Everett buried himself in the sand fully clothed. We grilled. And swung on the porch. And slept like bears, and yes, fireworks too and ALL OF IT WAS TOTALLY GLORIOUS.
So. The night of the fireworks, we ended up all wearing grey? Terrible! We showed up in the parking lot ready to head out and looked at each other like, well shoot, WE look festive. I have no excuse for my husband. But mine is basically that I had no red, white or blue that was as comfortable as this jersey blend. Everett's flag shirt was dubbed official family representative.
At one point during the waiting when Everett started getting a little grouchy, we asked him if he wanted to take a time-out. Usually the answer to that is no, but this time he said that yes, in fact he did want to take a time-out. Specifically in his stroller, with the hood alllllll the way down. This was about a minute later, in the middle of the evaluation-of-the-feelings, are-we-ready-to-be-nice pow-wow.
I'm pretty sure this was an accident, but they set off two huge fireworks out of nowhere before it was dark. So here we have Everett's reaction to seeing the very first ones of his life. Which he called poppers. Later, when it was dark and the fireworks show was ablaze in its full glory, we sat there as a family, Tyson and I not nearly as interested in the fireworks display as we were in watching the colored light bounce off Everett's mesmerized face. Though about half way through, he started to get really concerned and kept calling out, "ohhhhh nooooo!!! WATCH OUT MOON!"
We spent the whole of Saturday afternoon on the beach, building sandcastles with watery moats, reading, swimming, sleeping, talking and squirting papa with a water shooter.
Everett fell asleep within five seconds of leaving the beach so we took turns running into Taste for a bag full of cherries and some gelato. I swear, the cold raspberry flavor tasted even brighter and raspberr-ier (sure!) with our post-beach sleepiness and sun-soaked skin.