While on our mini-vacation to Airdrie for Christmas, we always, and I mean always, stop in at the Airdrie festival of lights. Always because now that my son knows there are little trains that take you around, he is like the proverbial elephant and never forgets. Except I really think the elephant would be less verbal in his insistance, nay, his outright demanding that we go.
And since once in a while, we would like to at least compete for Parents of the Year, we take the kids.
Note that I said compete, not place, in the competition. We don’t even bother to aim high.
Because to quote ol’ Homer Simpson: “You tried your best and failed miserably. The lesson is: never try.”
Unlike Rudolph below, the keener. And what did it get him? More work. Pah.
But it’s absolutely worth freezing my tush off when I see the happiness literally radiating from my son’s face, it’s worth not feeling my fingers or toes.
Because then I go and warm up my freezing fingers in a bag of mini-doughnuts. And then all is right with the world at that point. Oh yah, and my kids are happy too. That too. Really. It’s not all about the doughnuts.
And then we continue on to see the rest of the displays, I have finished my temper tantrum about being cold since Mike placates me even further with a hot chocolate.
We are treated to a small display of fireworks that I do believe have nothing to do with the festival. I think someone was celebrating Boxing Day. Why, I have no idea. But they were very short and I can’t imagine they were for the festival. But I have been wrong before.
My daughter was in a very posy mood. I like her when she is green. I also like it when she’s happy and not being a 3 almost 4 year old and throwing tantrums. Oh wait, like mother like daughter, I guess. She is my firecracker and I love her for it. She makes my life interesting, in a wonderful way.
Me and my boy. My quiet, laid back beautiful, sweet Momma’s boy. I am ok with the apron strings being tied around him so close he barely makes it out the door to school.