June 13, 2013

To see a farmer

So, my Mac has been in the shop for the better part of the last two weeks.  I went in for a power cord issue and left it in the capable hands of Genius Bar Jay for an iPhoto rebuild.  I know I abuse iPhoto.  It gets used for way more than it was ever intended in my case.  But for now, it'll have to do, even more so than before now that it's been moved to an external hard drive with not one but two backups.  This, my friends, is a very good thing.  My heart is incredibly happy because of it.  Incredibly.  

418 photos just popped from my memory card onto my drive.  418.  This does not include any of the photos I've taken via Instagram.  

I'll confess.  I've become completely addicted to Instagram thanks to a little app called A Beautiful Mess.  See that button up there and to the right?  Click it.  There's some good stuff hiding there.  Blueberry & feta pizza.  Super Channing.  The cutest picture of Max.  Ever.  

Not entirely sure where to start sharing.  Our weeks have been packed chalk full of all sorts of goodness, some of which I'd already forgotten, like our adventure to see a real farmer.  Channing was bound and determined to meet the farmer who lives up the road from us.  Literally.  Up.  The.  Road.  After 25 minutes of heaving 100 pounds of kid and stroller up a fairly steep hill, we made it from our front door to the neighborhood farm.  

It's beautiful.  It's in the middle of the city.  I look at it with green, gaga-eyed envy each and every time we go past it, which is almost daily.  

Channing had to simply watch from our side of the fence.  The farmer was not out and as much as Channing insisted we should, I was not about to walk up to his front door and knock.  We'd carried along apples for the resident horses and donkey, a treat if, and only if, the farmer gave us permission to share with the four legged friends.

They ended up being saved for another day.  Channing was delighted by the adventure nonetheless, the excitement doubled, of course, by the speed at which we arrived home, me being dragged at a fierce pace back down the hill.  'Mom!  You're freaky fast like Jimmy Johns!!'  

Then, there was the whole Son's Father's Day celebration.  Yep.  You read that right.  Son's Father's Day.  Please oh please do not confuse it with the actual Father's Day.  They're two entirely different holidays.  

In case you missed it, it was that day a week-ish ago in which fathers came home from work early enough to take their son's to the toy store to pick out a HotWheels race track for Son's Father's Day.  The mom has to make a 'fancy-cool' dinner and if you clean your plate, the father then takes the son to Culver's for an M&M mini mixer.  

Oh yes, Channing was quite convinced this was a true and actual holiday.  He even asked (very politely I might add) that I call WM at his office to remind him that he needed to be home well in advance of dinner for the occasion.

WM did one better.  He stopped and picked up a kite in honor of the occasion.  After a quick bite to eat, we headed to the park.  The wind had been blowing like crazy all day.  As we arrived at the park, rain began to fall.  Through the downpour, we could see blue sky on the horizon.  After a quick trip to Culvers, the rain stopped, the wind died completely and the boys tried their best to fly the kite by simply running back and forth through the field.  

Channing could have cared less.  He was DELIGHTED by every moment of his very special day.  

The following morning, he was feeling photogenic and perhaps a little sorry for Maxwell, who, being too little to fly the kite or eat the ice cream, spent his evening like this.  Yes, in the stroller.  Again.

Channing decided that a brother snuggle was the best way to make up for it.  HE mixed the bottle.  HE picked the burp cloth.  HE had to do it all by his big guy self.  Max, thankfully, went for it.  

And, because it is just too cute and I simply cannot end this post without sharing, this super serious portrait of Super Channing at once cracks me up and warms my heart.  Seriously.  

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