This weekend we met some friends at an undisclosed rocket launch pad somewhere in the city...
My friend's husband had a stash of rockets and they'd scoped out the perfect place to launch them. They even wore their family Batman shirts since four year old Brucewaynebatman would be there. Awesomely sweet. And of course, someone came home from spending the night at Lolli and Papa's the night before convince that today he was Blue Beetle. DC? Marvel? Who the F is Blue Beetle?! This kid asks me every day, "Mommy, can I be _____ today?" (Fill in the blank with Batman, Raphael (ninja turtle), or Optimus Prime). I, of course, say yes... (Apparently I have authority on granting superpowers?) And he says "Thank you Mommy!!!" with a huge grin. So today, he wore Batman but he told me he's really Blue Beetle.
As we pulled up to the field, he says "Hey guys -- Are we gonna get busted?"
Get busted?! Wait, who brought the beer? Busted?!
And why does my preschooler even know about 'busted'?
We assured him no, we wouldn't be busted. We're just scientists, doing an experiment.
Then we taught him about keeping on the DL. psych.
That morning I may have been a tad excited.
So excited that I used my special black glitter paper and made official Rocket Club badges.
A Cricut may or may not have been involved. As well as chevron print ribbon and spray adhesive.
I thought it was pretty rad to give the kids spaceage names like Blast, Zoom, Zap, Whizz, and Zeee.
Only Cade wanted an official rocket badge.
The girls would have no part of it.
Upon later reflection I realized that for 3-8 year old girls you really need to have pink, purple, and teal for it to even be a consideration. And bling. And a necklace instead of a safety pin. Um hello?? What was I thinking?! So disappointed... I've got the boy mama thing down-ish.... Now I've got to work my inner girly girl.
Thanks, little man. For wanting the badge. For being "Blast" and being excited about it.
For making momma not feel like a huge loser.
Anyways, they launched all the rockets and each time they let out a fun loud noise and some steam.
The kids would then take off and run through the field to chase the parachute.
We may or may not still be a man down.
One half of one of the chutes is in someone's backyard. Sorry 'boutcha.
We tried to notify you. ish... And pray for a strong wind to knock it down.
With recent current events we understand it's not exactly a good sign to find a part of a toy rocket in your backyard. It looks a wee suspicious, but it's a child's toy. Promise. Can we get it back before you call the FBI? Nevermind.
It's always a playdate plus when the dads can be involved (AKA run the show) and the mommas can sit back and chat and pass out goldfish.
It's also a plus when your fellow momma brings Legit Goldfish.
I agree, the organic kind is better for you. It's also 3x the cost. And Goldfish are a staple to my American childhood and thus my children's too. So where does this fit in exactly in my "Cool Friendly Momma" checklist?? Last summer at a friend's neighborhood pool some chicks spotted my friend's organic gold-bunnies deals. These moms went on and on and on about how how could anyone POSSIBLY feed their flesh and blood all the chemicals and cheddar and arsenic or whatever they belive is bad about Goldfish. My friend nodded as these girls babbled their schpeil, then she said "Oh, these aren't the real Goldfish? My mother-in-law bought them for us." I wanted to high-five, fist-bump, hell chest-bump her. So bad A, no? Meanwhile I was slipping my kids the real deal along with some rainbow Cheerios and praying that they didn't catch me "poisoning" America's youth. Thus, Goldfish became another gold-star for any potential Mommy friends.
Respect. Keeping It Real.
Fighting the Good Fight.