Last night Daddy took Oldest and Middleson "out". Out = shopping for yours truly for Christmas. It's tradition. They come home, sneaking-in, with crinkly Target bags pretending they drove around all evening for no reason at all. I pretend I didn't know where they were or what they were doing. Next year when Babyboy is fully pottytrained and sippy-cup-less, he will join the troops.
In an effort to avoid the "Meeeee goooooo!" screams, I bundled Babyboy for a stroller ride to see the lights. Bundling wasn't needed, we could have worn our beach attire.
We had so much fun talking. It was a bit strange having a one-on-one conversation with Babyboy. There is always so much competition in communication and unfortunately, the least verbal loses every time. Not last night. He had all of me. I had all of him.
We talked about why we celebrate Christmas. Soon he was imitating me, "Cewebrate Missmas is for Jesus Buthday. Happy Buthday to Jesus!".
We stopped at house after house to really look at the lights and the lawn displays. His favorite was snoopy in an airplane. At another house, he wanted a front-seat view of the choo choo train. Folks, I let him out of the stroller, into the yard, and directly in front of the train. It was dark and nobody could see us trespassing. And, when do you ever get closer to Christmas lights? There was no steamed-over car window to separate him. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity.
54 degrees in December might not happen again. And, if it does, he will be out with Daddy and the big boys shopping for mommy.
It was the perfect weather for a stroller-ride together for two.
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