Independence Day...Late

Its no big shocker that I'm a tardy blog poster. But as Dave reminded me, writing this blog has been something I like to do in my spare time...and none of my time has been spare lately. Its summertime and the livin' may be easy, but its also BUSY (easy and busy are probably mutually exclusive, but I don't have time to quibble). The island is hopping, the weather is beautiful (finally), and we've been nonstop since Father's Day. The good news is I've been dutifully recording every magic moment.

Dave's family was in town, leading to several adorable cousin encounters, as well as the discovery that tree trunk baby thighs and Stay-Puf marshmallow feet are genetic gifts bestowed on both Emerson and Max.



With some reservation, we took Max to the island parade and fireworks. Its not that I was worried he'd be scared, it was more that the fireworks started at 9:00, two full hours past baby bedtime. What sort of overtired twitching screaming monster would this parenting decision result in? I was semi-convinced he'd become the ultimate baby sleep
horror story: day/night confused.

In typical Max fashion, he surprised me with his adaptability. He loved the parade, waving his little flag with patriotic fervor. He fell asleep right before the big bang began and slept through half of them (without a TWITCH. This from the child who wakes from a dead sleep when we try to lower him 2 feet into his Pack-N-Play.) He was mostly awestruck upon waking, but held tightly to my arm, made a few worried "mmmmmmm"s, and squinted a lot.





Even after getting to bed past 11:00, Max still seems to know the difference between night and day. Clearly he's got my brains.