Independence Day

We have talked a lot about the USA over the past few days.

We haven't quite nailed the Pledge of Allegiance or the Star-Spangled Banner, but there's always next year.

How much does a 2 1/2-year-old understand about the anniversary of his new nation's birth? I can't say--and though Louis talks more and more all the time, he hasn't elaborated.


What I do know is that every time I think Louis doesn't understand us completely, he proves me wrong. (The other day, for example, I asked his father how Louis did at naptime. "He was fine," John said, before going into spelling mode. "He only yelled 'B-A-B-A! B-A-B-A!" a few times before he fell asleep." What did Louis do four hours later when we put him down for bed? He yelled--spelling it aloud--"B-A-B-A! B-A-B-A!", laughing the whole time. Does he know what he's spelling? I have no idea. But you can see why we are inclined to think this boy isn't missing much.)

Still, we hadn't planned much for our son's first Fourth of July. Fireworks would throw off his not-so-flexible bedtime and parades are always during his not-optional naps. So, we were thrilled to learn last week that his godparents were bringing their two sons to town for the weekend. Their elder son, John Paul, is just six weeks younger than Louis, and he was certainly up for a party. Grandma was only too happy to oblige.

After we sang happy birthday to America, I turned to Louis and offered him cake or blueberry pie. Our typically decisive boy was speechless. He had never had a slice of pie, though he has heard about it often enough. If you look closely at the photo above, however, you can see that he is showing more than passing interest in the cake. Luckily for Louis, this is America, the land of opportunity. He had a little of both--with ice cream, thank you very much.

After dessert, Grandpa announced that we were having a family car washing event. Louis jumped up from the table, ran to the sandbox, grabbed his green plastic car, took it to the kitchen, and asked my sister to put it under the faucet--which she did, of course. He doesn't miss much. Then I took Louis outside to show him that we were washing the Big Cars.

Was Louis disappointed to trade a spectacular fireworks display for front-yard waterworks?

Not our boy.

Getting to help Baba and Grandpa alongside his cousin John Paul while getting wet and soapy?

That's hard to top.

He scrubbed alongside Aunt Treasa.

He helped squirt the hose.
Long after most of the helpers had lost interest in this car washing activity, Louis was still hard at work on the third car, scrubbing alongside his father.

Then, when he overheard his Mama mention that her flip-flops would need to be rinsed before we could go home, he got to work.

Next week I'll start dropping hints about folding the laundry. Or maybe packing lunches.

He got drenched all right.

But he sure had fun.
And we had time to take a few photos.

Some without a smile.
Some with a cheesy-why-are-you-interrupting-my-car-washing-fun grimace.

And some that made us realize, yet again, how much our baby boy has grown in seven months.

Is Louis proud to be a U.S. citizen? You'd have to ask him. But if celebrating America means eating pie, washing cars, laughing while working alongside his family, and needing a new change of clothes by the end of the night, Louis has got it down.