The Fourth is probably my favorite holiday after Thanksgiving. Not because I am especially patriotic or anything, but it was always a big deal for us, the one day every year my dad made worstenbroodjes from scratch. And fire works! So I was super bummed this year. No plans, had to work until 7 anyway. But last minute I had Kyle come with the baby and meet me on the other side of the lake in Sammamish. And it was perfect and Tycho danced to the band and got a balloon and ate kettle corn and oohed appropriately at the fireworks and I loved every minute of him loving it.
Tycho found a mom throwing a (tiny, nerf) football with her son, and decided he wanted to get in on that action. (His own ball and his own mother both proved far less interesting.) They took pity on the poor kid and let him throw their ball. I got to talking with the mom when she complimented his throwing technique (he will hit you square in the chest every time), and it turns out they are a big baseball family, too and she was from Cleveland! I love that Tycho found just the right people for us to chat with. Kyle invited his husband to bring their kids down to hi baseball facility.
Babies are so awesome. Without Tycho it would have just been me and Kyle quietly sitting in a damp patch of grass. Life is so much more with him. Happy Birthday, America!