I am certainly at the point in my life where the Kite Festival is less about kites and more about food. It’s the one time each year that I indulge in an elephant ear, and hey, since we were at the beach, I threw in some fries, clam chowder, loads of pizza, fried fish, ice cream (though the ice cream was more Charles than me, as you will see), cookies, and a whole lot of Not Exercising.
It was sure fun, though. Tony fished the whole weekend, so I can’t speak for him and his fun level, but Charles was in rare form. He was either intensely happy, gorging his way through pizza and pancakes, or intensely unhappy, insisting on pushing his stroller all by himself(GETYOURSTINKINGHANDSOFFOFME!), or angry at his inability to relate to me what it is he needed (this, I understand, is the crux of the “terrible twos” affliction). We had some sleeping troubles, and a memorable incident with a marker and a wall, but overall, a great weekend.
When I awoke on Saturday morning, the house was deserted. Charles had been spirited away to the magic world of the WSIKF Chairperson:
Turns out this particular magic world includes pancakes and golf carts. Who knew?
Later that same day, he helped Grandpa (whom he affectionately calls Bampa) in the shop:
Then we had pizza at Chico’s (of course) and Tony continued a Cook tradition by letting Charles in on the little secret that you don’t need quarters to play video games.
And Charles stuffed himself:
The next day, he not only got an ice cream, he got to ride with John on the City Gator!
Mom’s expression is the greatest here. It’s like she can’t believe what a mess he’s making slurping his ice cream.
It would appear that my world revolves around Charles. And so it does. So much so, that I was shocked to find out that there are only twelve days (twelve days!) to go before I leave for the Caribbean. I totally need this trip.