Independence

This Fourth of July felt so much different from the rest.  For starters, my pyromaniac is 7,000 miles away.  How's a girl to celebrate if her best friend isn't constantly attempting to burn off his eyebrows?  I mean really!

I'm just thankful I have my Milo around.  Yes, I refer to him as "my Milo".  I don't care if it sounds creepy.  

Saturday night we had a cook-out with our close friends, expecting not-so-great weather on Sunday.  All was well, until a flash storm rolled through and soaked us, our food and children to the core.  It was actually the highlight of my night.  I won't go into details, but I will tell you that Milo may have been chosen second by me over the bowl of exposed Cheetos.  Don't get your panties in a bunch- he was in the play house...made of metal.  Okay, it wasn't metal.  But it would make the story that much better!

It was that night that we came to find that Milo isn't such a fan of fireworks.  Maybe next year.  I did convince him to hold a sparkler and it was AMAZING!  It makes me wonder if next year I will be regretting that decision.  Have I just given an innocent boy his first hit of fire?  This could be bad...

As I sat down to write this, I found the title I chose to be very fitting.  My little boy isn't as little as he used to be.  Granted he's only 23 pounds, but now he has the gift of running on his side.  Yes, I may be able to pick him up by one arm (which I never do...) but this child is like tornado.  He moves quick, is only in one spot for a short amount of time and when he clears out it's pure destruction.

I suppose I will need to figure out how to adjust to his growing independence.  It's sad, but a fact of life.  Maybe this is why people have more and more children.  They see their youngest growing older and get sad too.  And then they figure it out: just have another one!  If there weren't sleepless nights involved, I might volunteer to do just that.  But as it is, mama likes her ten hours of sleep.  Yes, I sleep ten hours.  Don't judge me.