Our good friends Karen and Sam arrived from LA last Thursday for their annual visit. They timed their visit to coincide with your 2nd birthday party, which was mighty nice of them.
When we picked them up from the airport, our first order of business was to put you and Sam on display at the Oversized Luggage counter...
...but since no one offered to claim you guys, we put you in the car and took you to lunch at Cracker Barrel. It was actually a celebratory lunch for more than one reason - on Thursday morning, your dad successfully defended his Master's thesis, and only now can be officially considered to have a Master's degree. I know, I was just as shocked as you are now when I first discovered that the long, boring ceremony we attended back in May was a total sham. But now it has become official, with the conferring of the ceremonial Chicken-Fried BLT.
We had so much to do to get ready for your party that after we put you and Sam to bed on Thursday night, Karen and I left you girls under the care of Thor, and drove into town where we went shopping at Walmart until almost midnight. Late-night shopping is the kind of thing that Karen and I would routinely do when I still lived in Los Angeles, but it would normally be preceded by a few rounds of cocktails at some classy joint. These days, the shopping is done sans adult beverages; while the experience itself is less fun, at least I don't have to wake up the morning after wondering why the hell I now own more than one pair of pink glitter sneakers. True story.
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On Friday morning, we took you girls to the community water park - Splash Montana - because I'd heard they have a great toddler area. The rumors turned out to be true; the kiddie area was one huge acre of liquid mayhem.
You didn't want to wear your new swim jacket, which I thought would be okay, since the pool was only a foot deep and we'd probably just be walking around. Instead, you high-tailed it out to the deep end, spread your arms wide and threw yourself down into the water. I fished your butt out and we immediately revised our swim jacket policy.
After spending half an hour in the kid section, you said "Mom - wanna get out." I figured you were done with swimming, but instead, you waded out of the kiddie pool, ran across the concrete deck and jumped into the Lazy River. By the time we left, I was wet and tired and done with all things aquatic, but as I dragged you to the truck, I heard you mumble, "More 'wim! More 'wim!"
Finally, all that 'wimmin caught up with you at lunch, because ten seconds after ordering at the brew pub, you passed out. I ended up having to eat a half pound buffalo burger with a fork.
Meanwhile, Sam recovered all the calories she'd burned at the pool by downing a plate of french fries with Ranch while catching up on Motocross standings displayed on the pub TV.
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