Miles insisted on going over to the new house this evening and, after seeing all of his stuff in the garage, also insisted on taking his scooter for a spin.
"No Dad! Your stick is a trumpet and mine is a guitar! No...give me yours! I want 'em both!"
Every time Miles wants to have a stick fight, he always graciously finds stinks for both of us. And yes, mine is always about five inches long vs. his 1-2 foot-long choices. Did I mention he gets two?
The kid's kicking game is coming along nicely.
Just a little dude, getting down on the playground.
On a walk today, Miles grew tired of feeling the wind in his face. So he did what any rational cyclist would.
This child showed up outside my window as I was wrapping up my work day. Clearly, he's up to no good. The beanie, the sticks...he's about to start trouble.
There comes a time in the lives of all young boys when they ask themselves the age-old question: "...but is there a way I can put the bat on the tee?"
When your kid comes home and wants to throw the football around before the sun goes down, you get right on that.
It's taken a while, but today Miles finally figured out how to pucker his lips and blow (as opposed to "FFFT"-ing through his front teeth).