Big Guy Day

Last weekend sissy and I went to a birthday party that was just for us girls, so you and your daddy had a "Big Guy Day."

You and your daddy went to the golf club. You were so excited, clutching your Snoopy putter on the way there. At the golf course you would put a ball down about an inch away from the hole to putt. You knew it was a special "Big Guy Day" and would periodically say "my big guy."

After about 45 minutes of putting, you and your daddy hit the restaurant where you devoured a ton of French fries with ketchup while watching bowling on TV. Things were slow so the waitress came by to talk to you. She crouched down next to you and asked, "how you doin' little fella?" to which you responded, "my a big guy."

Then you helped daddy pick out a few items from the club shop. When you saw him take his shirt off to try another one on, you tried to take your shirt off, too. You really are getting to be a big guy!

Not Exactly Rainbows and Lollipops

I'm sure every parent has certain ideal moments they picture in their minds. Moments that play like Kennedy-esque home movies where everyone is smiling and laughing (and perfectly tanned; however, with our genes we replace that little tid bit with "pasty white").

Your very first ride on your very first big girl bike would have to be the antithesis of this ideal. The process began well. You and brother were so excited when daddy got home to put together your new bike. You even posed for photos.

You were even a bit of a help at first.

Until you got bored

and decided to abandon the task altogether, leaving daddy to finish the bike (much more quickly) by himself.

And wasn't he proud!

And that is where the pictures end because shortly after unveiling his engineering masterpiece and adjusting your helmet to fit properly, you threw a huge massive fit (which reminds me that I need to go retrieve your shoes from where you threw them into the street). We're hoping for a more delightful ride another day.