Gun Control

Lately I have been noticing that many of my posts have been Hudson centered. They usually veer into the "Good Lord, I don't know what to do with this kid" category. This would be another to add to that list. I love him more than I could ever explain, but often his behavior is beyond explanation.

Backstory 1: This family owns a single cap gun. I can't even really remember why it was acquired to begin with, but I am pretty sure that it was mainly as an accessory to Connor's rodeo outfit (You know we are all about the costumes in this house). We are not gun people. We are dull samurai sword people. It has never really served a function, it has never fired a cap and has been languishing away in the toy box for years. Or so I thought. I now know that it wasn't simply hidden away like a forgotten toy, it was waiting for it's true master to claim it. Much like in Harry Potter, where a wand has a way of choosing it's owner, the gun has chosen Hudson.

Instantly upon discovering his love for the gun, Hudson expanded his vocabulary to include the word "soot." As in, " I soot you." Lovely. He also has a very specific, slightly aggressive gun stance. Legs spread, brow furrowed, eyes afire. I can't say that I love it. This has been going on for a while and we have been working our tails off reprimanding him for threatening to shoot people. As sneaky as he is, he seamlessly transitioned into shooting everything else. The walls, planes in the sky and one nightmarish afternoon, his own son, Big Baby an act for which he at least showed instant remorse. But back to this in a moment.

Backstory 2: On a whim, I bought the boys the movie Hook for Christmas. Connor isn't a huge movie watcher and didn't really care. Hudson, being a second child and therefore an avid fan of the cinema, became hooked. He watched it every day, at least once during Christmas vacation. Sometimes twice. I know that admitting that here makes me sound like the laziest mother in the world, but when my choices boil down to 90 minutes of Hook or a 90 minute set on the drums.....don't judge me. Here is the thing though, Hook is not a cartoon and it kind of scares him. So he came up with the genius idea of watching the movie with his gun poised at the ready, hammer cocked, just in case he needed to protect himself. (Please see Exhibit A)). Whatever. He wasn't threatening to shoot any of us and he was happy. But as this odd gun, Hook, Hudson love triangle continued some more interesting details started to emerge. First of all, although it was truly Captain James Hook that Hudson is scared of, it is in fact, the mild mannered, middle aged Peter Pan played by Robin Williams that Hudson preferred to shoot. AKA the good guy and there was no talking him out of it. So Hudson had cast himself as a henchman. Fantastic. And not at all weird.

Now, fast forward to last weekend. Connor had the great idea of mounting a stage production of Captain Hook and Peter Pan in our living room. I knew in my heart of hearts that this was a bad idea, but they were both so gung ho that I just had to let the disaster play itself out. It was all going quite well, Peter came out in some of his little brother's pants in order to look the part (whatever that means) and Hudson came ready with his gun. There was a lot of chasing and "arghhing" and laughing so I decided that this might not be so bad after all. As soon as I mentally commended myself for having two bright and imaginative boys, the screaming started. James Hook decided it was time to cut to the battle scene and attempt to lop off Peter Pan's hand in retribution for his own hook. Sigh. I had to stop Hudson as he attempted to perform Connor's de-handing with his gun. Yes, you read that right, my youngest son tried to pistol whip his brother's hand off with a buck ninety-nine six shooter.

I had Matt take a picture of the crime scene (exhibit B). Connor is convalescing with his bag of ice and shorty pants and James Hook is sitting in time out bearing witness to his brother's pain. You can see who looks more upset. So, the gun is gone. I thought that might help dial down the anxiety I feel about being a victim of a cap gun drive by in my own house, but it hasn't. Although he has been denied access to the offending weapon, he has resorted to finding alternate guns. To date, they have included a wooden spoon, a baby carrot and a rather intimidating stick he found today on a walk (exhibit C and please note the stance). I am scared that he is going to start biting his bread into the shape of a gun. I can just picture myself in a school counselor's office saying, "Well, I'm not positive but I think it all started with a single cap gun...." Matt said I should worry more about a potential vitamin D deficiency as result of the inordinate amount of his life that kid spends in time out. I just don't know anymore.

Christmas 2010

Another Christmas has come and gone in a whirlwind of excitement and noise. Noise being the key word there because Santa was kind enough to deliver a drumset to this house. For months whenever anyone asked my boys what they wanted for Christmas, they both would say drums. Or dums. No matter how hard we tried to shift their yearnings subliminally with advertisements and sometimes downright begging, it was still at the top of their list. It was actually the only thing on Hudson's list, Connor's was rather lengthy and included a real space shuttle and an actual star. Since his list tended to veer toward the completely unattainable we decided to get the drums because we wanted Santa to get the credit for coming through in as big of a way as possible.

We also decided to get Connor a Wii, as we are undoubtedly the last family in America to get one. He always likes to play it at my dad's house and since he is about to turn five we thought he would be able to get a lot of enjoyment out of it. Plus Matt is determined to beat me in Wii tennis but frankly that is just not going to happen. So Christmas morning Matt got up super early to turn on the tv and wii and make a fire and before 6:00 Connor hopped out of bed and raced in ready to greet his gifts. He encountered his first problem, his sleeping lump of a baby brother. I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth and trying to acquaint myself with the fact that it was 5:45 in the morning, when I came out and saw Connor literally laying on his brother and prying his eye lids open. The Mush did not so much enjoy that. While Connor was filled with the magic of Christmas, Hudson was filled with the two helpings of Santa's milk and cookies he had stolen the night before and was in no mood for early morning shenanigans. After a lot of cajoling we finally managed to get them both downstairs.

They were so excited, they didn't see the drums at first. When Hudson finally noticed, it was like a spotlight shown down from heaven illuminating the tiny set while a chorus of angels broke out into hallelujahs. To sum up, he was excited. There was a minor setback when we discovered that even in it's lowest short boy setting, the stool was still to high for our vertically challenged son to mount on his own, but we didn't let that put a damper on the excitement of our sons owning their very own drumset. Oh no, not when there was so much joyful noise to be made!Granted, he also could not reach the bass pedal, but who cares? We will just hit that with our sticks too! Also in the wee hours of the chilly Christmas morn, we discovered that our two year old had some pretty intense showmanship on the drums. He had an elaborate routine of counting off the beat while hitting his sticks together. A very loud high pitched voice shouting, " A one, do, free!" He would then proceed to play the crap out of those drums only pausing to stick them behind his back and twist them around. That move was strictly to make him look cool. Listen. I don't know where he learned all that but I am going to really have to monitor his netflix queue more closely.

After about five minutes I started to hate Santa. I mean, really, do we hate ourselves? And honestly that question has been posed to me on several occasions by well meaning friends who wondered why we would ever allow our family to live with a drumset! It really isn't like me. I am much more the, "here is a stocking full of books and a new sweater vest" kind of mom because all of those things are peaceful and quiet and I am a nerd that loves books. But I also want to be the mom whose kids know that she wants them to be as weird and creative as they want to be and if my Mush wants to express himself on a drumset, than who am I to hold him back? Oh. That was even hard to type. By the way, they also did get stockings full of books. We haven't completely lost our minds here people.

At approximately 6:14 a.m. once the fury of unwrapping and drumming had settled down to a dull roar, Matt and I collapsed on the couch in exhaustion to watch the boys play. Connor kept spontaneously announcing that this was the best Christmas he had ever had and that he was so glad it was Jesus' birthday. That really made us feel all warm and fuzzy inside. The mention of Jesus also reminded Hudson that life isn't just drums and ketchup and he ran into our breakfast nook. I was just gathering the energy from deep within to follow him when he galloped back into the living room yelling, "Yeehaw! Yeehaw!" I asked Matt why he was running and holding his crotch at the same time (those are questions I feel like Matt should always have the answer for) and upon closer inspection we discovered that he had ever so carefully plucked the donkey out of our nativity scene and was pretending to ride that tiny mule around our living room. As Matt reached for him in order to save the donkey from his inevitable fate, Hudson froze mid gallop, arms outstretched and shhh'd us as loud as he could. We all also froze, because frankly he is unpredictable and unpredictable people are dangerous (I learned that on the Real Housewives FYI). He stood there for about twenty seconds with that donkey clutched in his hand and then said, "Shh, baby seeping." "My baby seep." We followed him back over to the nativity and saw that he had placed a kitchen towel over the baby Jesus. Isn't that sweet (assuming he was tucking him in and not trying to smother him)? Ignoring the fact that touching my nativity is an offense punishable by death, it was absolutely precious. Ahh, a small glimpse into the real meaning of Christmas.

It almost made the drumming bearable. Almost.

More Kookalele!

The highlight of our jaunt into Cozumel had to be the acquisition of a tiny guitar. First of all, there were souvenir guitars everywhere and Hudson was so excited, I was worried that he was going to stroke out. He ran around frantic yelling, "' Tar! Tar! My tar!" We tried to put him off for a while so we could shop around a little more, but finally we broke down and Susanne bought him a little green number with the words Cozumel Mexico inexplicably framed in quotation marks. As an instrument it possessed absolutely no redeeming musical value. Not that he cared. All of a sudden he was Jimmy Page, Stevie Ray Vaughn and Eric Clapton all rolled into one 26 pound body (Minus all the rock and roll druggie drama of course).

That little boy's eyes lit up and he set about to entertain on the streets and sidewalks of Cozumel like it was his birthright. He was a strolling troubadour, strumming that cheap fishing line and singing his little heart out. What was he singing? Hard to say. There was definitely a rendition of Toot Toot Chugga Chugga Big Red Car, but it was also mashed up with a lot of other indecipherable melodies and lots of woo-ing a la Micheal Jackson. Every 20 feet or so he would strike a pose, raising the neck of the guitar high in the air, and hit a high note that seemed to last forever. It was adorable. Connor, Dr. Literal, pointed out that it was obviously too small to be a real guitar so he was positive that it was a "Kookalele." Um, a what? "Mommy, a kookalele. It is a different instrument than a guitar but it looks like one but it is very small and sounds different. They play them by them the ocean." Oh that makes perfect nonsensical sense and fitting since we looked like a band of kooks following this kid around town while he played a guitar that produced no sound.

By now, in a city full of touristy cheesy attractions, Hudson had become the greatest attraction of the day. Everywhere we walked people came out of their shops and stopped to watch him perform. He ate it up. He had a perma-grin and totally fed off the audience. We met up with the rest of our traveling group at Pancho's Backyard for lunch and I thought the Mush would take a break to eat and relax for a while. Nope. On the patio, there were two men playing a beautiful hand carved marimba. It was like a moth to a flame. Hudson is not the most easily understood verbally, but I imagine in his mind he was saying the following as he moseyed up to them, "Hey guys, it looks like you need a guitar player over here. I know every song ever written and I'll split the tips with you. Okay, let's jam." And jam they did. Those guys were so nice to Hudson even though he was the stereo typical hot shot band member who wanted all the spotlight and gave very little credit to those backing him up. You know, those unimportant people who can actually play on real instruments that make actual sound. That was no matter to Hud though, he played that piece of junk guitar, held together by hot glue and fishing wire, like it was a vintage Strat. It went on for several hours and he even earned tips from his "public." Strangers were stuffing dollars into the pocket of his bandanna print shirt. It was a little disconcerting. Again, I cannot stress how nice those two marimba players were. Once, I turned around to see Hudson interrupting a song in order to have one of them tune his guitar and the man ever so patiently turned and adjusted that fishing line until it was in tip top shape. Then later,at another point, they had hoisted him up so he could play that dang marimba! It was all too much.

All in all, Cozumel made quite the impression on our two year old and I dare say that he made a similar impression on them. And for those of you worried that the kookalele wouldn't hold up, don't panic. It is still in one piece and getting plenty of love back here at home. When I say love, I really mean it, hr hugs and kisses it every night. I am sure that is exactly how Stevie Ray started out.

Your Cruise Director Mushy

I seem to start a lot of blog posts this way, but once again I have been so behind on blogging! This month has been crazy busy and I have a lot to post, but not enough time to actually type it all up!. So I am thinking that the December posts are going to be in nonsequential order,which doesn't bother me, but probably will drive some of you crazy, especially if you are slightly OCD like my oldest son.

Anyway, we haven't had time to blog this past week because we were on a cruise! I think I am going to have to break it into cruise post subcategories to keep it from being forever long, so this will be the first! We were so excited to go on a cruise with my grandparents to celebrate their 55th wedding anniversary! They took the entire family five years ago for their 50th, but Matt and I couldn't go because I was too far along in a high risk pregnancy with a certain boy who loves space (I was also unknowingly pregnant with a grown man named Kenny, which now that I think about it, probably contributed greatly to the high risk-ness). So now we had the chance to go and take the boys, which was very exciting and also extremely terrifying. We have never been on a real vacation before that didn't consist of staying with family members and having Super Target within walking distance. But we got it together and headed out for a "short" five hour road trip to Galveston. We woke up Thursday morning ready to board the ship. We were also cruising with my in-laws and Uncle Aaron and Uncle Jack plus Memom and Dedad. So all in all we were and odd, but fun cast of characters. The boys were so excited to see how giant the ship was and had no problem making themselves at home. In fact, home is a great word for this situation because that is how Hudson acted, like he was coming home. He took to the cruise ship like a duck to water and wasted no time making friends.

Since he knows no fear at all, his parents were forced to take on the extraneous fear that he should be feeling, in the form of heart stopping panic every time he came near a deck railing since, naturally, he is still tiny enough to squeeze himself through and possibly plummet into the ocean below. Now here is the thing about cruise ships, we think they are tons of fun, but they are also kind of cheesy. Okay, really cheesy. And here is the thing about my kids, they are also really cheesy. Can you see why they all got on so well? Especially the Mush, as he is king of the cheesy. Once he laid eyes on all that shiny brass and smily people, he lit up like a Christmas tree. He became quite the hit with the staff, high fiving people right and left and announcing, "I Hudson!" as he strutted through the hallways. Every night at dinner, the wait staff was forced into an almost painful song and dance routine and Hudson began to really look forward to this part of dinner. In fact, it became part of our bargaining for behavior routine, if he didn't flip out during the really long appetizer and main courses, he would be able to join the staff for their dance before dessert. And dance he did. Every night all the waiters would weave in a line around the tables and the maitre d' would announce that they were representing 40 different countries......and representing the United States, dancing to Flo-Rida's Get Low, one very short two year old.


Music is everywhere on a cruise ship and Hudson was like a little praire dog. He would catch a few notes from across the ship in a random lounge and his head would pop up on alert and he would start to dance and it was our job to get him as close to the source as possible. It was a little exhausting but he had the time of his life. Hudson also became like a little celebrity on the ship, he and Connor spent some time every day in Camp Carnival (for kids ages 2-5) and after the first day all of the workers knew Hudson by name, which I am sure was a good thing. The last night, the kids got the chance to take part in the chorus' holiday show on the main stage and since they were the youngest kids, their role consisted on putting decorations on the tree while there was singing and dancing. Hudson ranked high enough to get his own handler, a sweet lady, whose only job that night was apparently to attend to Hudson and make sure he didn't take over the show. I almost hesitated to put him in it though, because I was (and still am) afraid that once he gets a taste of the stage, we might lose him forever. It was really cute though. Speaking of handlers, he also had his own at the water slide! They had a really great baby slide that Hudson absolutely loved and there was an attendant there to keep an eye on things, but it quickly became clear that his job description shifted to focus entirely on Mushy. Hudson likes to scare the bejeebus out of people with his fearless antics and I started to really feel sorry for that man. Hudson is a sly little devil and as soon as the attendant (Ahmed from the Phillipines) reminded him to sit on his bottom, he would blink and Hudson would dive down head first. During Hudson's second time out (out of many), Ahmed came over and said, " I just so scared, he so cute but he scare me." Great, so now we are going to have a reputation in the Phillipines.

I told Matt, as the cruise came to an end that we are really going to have to keep a tight leash on that boy or before we turn around he will have run off and signed up for a tour on a cruise ship and then we will never see him again. He had that good of a time. He greeted people as if he worked there and high fived more complete strangers than was sanitary. I added two videos of a little of Hudson's interaction at dinner. I especially like the part where he starts yelling out, "Thank you!" like all the hundreds of people in that dining room are cheering for him. Well our table was

Get in my Drum, Jesus!

Connor is an odd mix of a boy. He is both extremely logical and extremely creative. I know everyone has a mix of a little of both, but he is like exactly half and half. He is so literal and at the same time wildly creative, so it makes for some interesting conversations.

For example, his holiday program at school is coming up this week. FINALLY! I say finally, because we have been hearing these same four songs since before Halloween and I don't just mean occasionally. Since he is kind of an eager achiever, he was dead set on perfection at this program and perfection comes at the cost of his mother's annoyance. He is exceptionally good at these songs and now so am I. This week, he was practicing Little Drummer Boy, his current favorite. As I was listening to him sing, I heard a minor discrepency and I thought I would try to correct it since I know he likes to have everything just right. Instead of singing the words, "me and my drum," at the end of a verse he always sings, "be in my drum." So I gently told him that was wrong. Well, he did not agree. So I asked him what he thought that "be in my drum" meant and how that fit into the song about a little boy playing his drum for a newborn Jesus. It was quite the explanation. He said, "Mommy, it means that the drummer boy wants the baby Jesus to be in his drum. " Why, Connor, would anyone, let alone a fictional middle eastern boy playing a snare drum in Bethleham, want to put a baby inside the drum? In a slightly exasperated tone, "Mo-oom, because he wants him to hear it really good and he wants to take him around and show him off while he plays songs for the new king. But, I think it might not be too comfortable so I would probably put some of his hay and stuff in there too so it would be soft and let Mary come in case he got scared." and then in a most serious voice, "I have to play my best for him." Oh. Did you notice the shift there? He went from referring to the drummer boy in the third person to actually becoming the little drummer boy. So, that is weird. Now at that program this week, while the pre-k'ers are singing Little Drummer Boy, this family will all be picturing Connor, in Bethleham, traipsing about town carrying baby Jesus in a drum on which he is playing his heart out (a drum which would probably be pink) while Mary follows behind in case the baby got scared. Matt says he hopes that Connor at least gives Jesus some tiny headphones. I told him to stop encouraging it.

But wait, there's more. Connor also shared with me the meaning of the words, "The ox and lamb kept time, ba rum pum pum pum." Being so literal, he spent some time thinking about that odd little phrase and has come to the conclusion that they were wearing watches. Yes, the ox and the lamb wore watches. Why, you ask? There is a perfectly reasonable explanation. The ox and lamb wore watches so they could tell Connor, oops, I mean the Little Drummer Boy, when it was time to switch songs. Naturally.
Matt wanted to know if they were also in charge of timing the labor pains. Ha. Ha.

Christmas program here we come!

Thanksgiving

It's time for the annual thankful post and while the faces of my blessings haven't changed much over the last 365 days, the joys have only multiplied and for that I am so grateful. This has been a hard year in some respects for our family and we have struggled with change. Me in particular. My parents divorce has been a challenging turn of events for us and has really changed the landscape of our extended family. In turn, while the world outside of our little house has been turned kind of topsy turvy, for the four of us inside, it has never been a better year. I am so grateful to have three people in my house that have kept me grounded and focused on what truly matters, so this post is dedicated to them as a type of love letter to the men I am so blessed to call my family.

My oldest child. Connor has really grown up over the last year and I have really come to appreciate having a child old enough to talk to about really important things. We have had amazing talks about life, God and the oh so very important Kenny and Stuart. I also really appreciate our conversations about super silly things because as a grown up, I forget how important silly conversations are to my soul. His imagination is endless and I know I have talked before about his absolute ability to find joy in life, but I don't think it can be mentioned enough. I love that he sees things in a totally unique way from the rest of the world, even if I don't always get it. He is smart and creative and every day is truly the best day of his life. I don't think I have ever had that mind set and I should. He loves the color pink and baseball in equal measure and can't wait to grow up to be a veterinarian or an artist or an astronaut. He is a fantastic big brother and loves his Mushy more than we could have ever imagined and I love to see them interact with each other every day (with the exception of the occasional slap fight). Hudson wants to be just like his brother and he couldn't have a better example.

My youngest son. He is a whirlwind. He has really come alive over the last twelve months and has been endlessly entertaining. He tolerates his family treating him like a baby even though he knows that he is a big boy. We know it too, but it is hard for us to see our little one giving up the last vestiges of babyhood. It has happened so fast. Hudson is hilarious. He hears five seconds of music on a commercial and it sends him into a dancing fit. He loves to break it down Wiggles style and has a groove like no other. He is can veer from complete and total stinker to sweet, snuggly boy so fast it almost gives me whiplash, but he always keeps us laughing. He is gifted at so many things, the least not being his ability to strip out of all his clothes in the blink of an eye no matter the time or place. Really, it is a talent. He has big dreams, even at the tender age of two, and so far those dreams consist of being a drummer and eating ketchup. Possibly being a drummer while eating ketchup, but I'm not positive. Joy. He has it too. It runs through his veins and I am so eternally thankful for it. He keeps all of us from taking ourselves too seriously and goodness knows I am guilty of that. Now, I just have to keep him from growing up and joining a nudist colony and we will be in good shape. I think I will tell him that they don't allow naked people to eat ketchup, that might work.

My husband. I thought I should probably save the best for last, especially since he gets some grief in this blog pretty often and never complains. He actually thinks I am funny, which is extremely generous of him. I love this man. He has been a rock for our family this year. He has dealt with my instability and roller coaster emotions and he has never once called me crazy (although I clearly was). He loves me enough to agree with me even when we both know I am wrong and supports me fully in my endless list of self-decreed hurts, offenses and one restaurant boycott (which is still going strong, by the way! It's been two years : ) He has shared my hurts and always finds a way to make me laugh, even at his own expense. Have I mentioned how he described our house to a realtor (whom we had known all of five minutes) as a "great baby making house?" It was both awkward and hilarious and classic Matt. He works about 5000 times harder than me every day and is fantastic at his job. Under appreciated, but fantastic and I always forget to give him enough credit (besides this annual blog, which if it were me, I would have circled in red on the calendar in order to make myself feel good, but he isn't like that). Matt is a great husband and a great Dad and I am so thankful that he is leading our family in the right direction, because if it were up to me, I think I would have us all on the road to crazy town by now. I love seeing the glimpses of my husband in both of my children and knowing that they are better for being like their dad.

So thanks for making it through my annual Thanksgiving brag about my boys post, we truly have so much to be thankful for this year. We have family that love us and friends that are like family and that makes us feel immeasurably blessed. Happy Thanksgiving!

Chariots of Fire

This morning Connor participated in his first fun run. He treated this event like it was the Olympics. Connor has always loved to run, so this short little one mile (approximately) jaunt seemed right up his alley.

Since this was his first foray into track and field I learned a few things about Connor Hill, professional racer, he has a list of things that are crucial to his success and they are as follows:

1. His get pumped up music. This includes one, and only one, song: Life is a Highway, performed by Rascal Flatts from the soundtrack to the movie Cars. He must hear this at least four times before he can run at his optimal level (watching it as a YouTube video is optional but a bonus).

2. His get pumped up food. The evening before the race he must eat as much as possible in order to "fill up his tank with fuel" This means he ate his weight in spaghetti and drank two full glasses of milk. His family is required to observe stomach and muscle size both before and after this meal to make sure we could see positive results.

3. An overabundance of self confidence. This event was titled "Fun Run", which Connor quickly renamed "My Race" and he declared himself the winner at least five days in advance. Halfway to the run this morning, he decided that he was over qualified for the kids run and should probably participate in "the parents run" with Ms. Karen (his running mentor and babysitter). This is a wonderful example of the Hill male's humility. He had already placed out of a division where he had yet to perform and promoted himself to the highest level. We agreed to work our way up to that though. His mission was not so much 'fun' as total domination of his competition. Oh, but he did have fun.

4. A fierce sense of competition. This goes hand in hand with number 3. His racing group was kids under 13 and some random adults who wanted to either run with their kids or didn't want to run the 5k. After Connor crossed the finish line, he let me know that he spent most of the race "trying to block a man pushing a stroller" in order to keep him from getting in the front. And by God, he beat that man pushing a stroller by at least 3 seconds (check the video). I can just imagine what that poor guy thought as he is casually jogging, pushing his baby and this crazy four year old making motor sounds keeps darting in front of him trying to cut him off. Near the finish line, a giant blue bear representing a healthcare company was waving and encouraging and handing out high fives as kids neared the end. Here is what Connor had to say about the friendly blue bear, "And Mommy, that bear tried to high five me, but I told him 'No! I'm winning this race!' I couldn't let that bear slow me down Mommy, because then that man with the stroller would beat me." That is dedication friends.

And finally 5. His secret weapon. What truly enables Connor to run the fastest and beat all but three other kids in the fun run? Wearing his Lightning McQueen pajamas underneath his racing clothes. He is kind of like superman like that.

Needless to say, I was overwhelmingly proud today. And cold. But definitely more proud than cold. I started to get a little worried though, after they left the starting line, because it was farther than I thought and he was totally out of sight for most of the race. He is, after all, only four years old and I kind of thought I would be able to see him the whole time. I started to imagine him getting a little tired and not being able to see anyone he knew and getting upset because again, he is four and four year olds tend to do things like that. But a mere nine minutes later, there he was, giving it his all and he crossed the finish line with a giant smile on his face. I don't think I could walk to my car in nine minutes without taking at least two sit down breaks. I love that kid with every ounce of my being and if I have to stand in the freezing cold to cheer him on in the other 92 races he has decided to run this year, I'll be there with bells on.

Really, he has set his personal racing goal at 92 and he is nothing if not an over achiever.