It Must Be Fall Again - Another Park Party

I'm back at my old stomping grounds, the neighborhood park. When these photos were taken, the annual party was going on at the other end. I had the whole playground to myself. No waiting for swings. No big kids running by me to get on the slide. This is the life.

Dad has started to teach me how to swing myself. Pretty soon I won't even need him except to maybe drop me off. And if he'd get me a truck, I could get here myself.

This next photo was my view from the swing. Look, the slide grew arms!





No, it's just mom being silly.

Enough fooling around, I guess I ought to go on and start working the crowd. Here goes. . .



The 2008 Annual Park Party. Yeah!



The adults (read Mom and Dad) were more interested in the pot luck dinners. See ya, guys, I'm off.



Walk this way, Dad.



And how about a little more spring in your step?



This particular cardboard slide was shut down for maintenance. I'm going to help inspect. Where's a good engineer when you need one, Mikey?




Aw, forget it. This "slide" is a mess. Let's blow this pop stand. Are there any trucks around here?



Back at home, I see Mom's vehicle is in need of some major restyling. This "O-bom-bom" magnet needs to go somewhere else. (Dad wants me to specifically note that this is Mom's car, not his.)




Alright, now that we've got that straightened out, let's see what else I need to do this afternoon. We gotta get some order in here.



Here, Dad, let me help you walk Toby.

Hmm . . . What to do, play with a dog with a head full of rocks, or just play with rocks? Like that's a choice. It's gravel time!





I'll be "two" in October. I can't hardly wait for my party. Mom keeps telling me that Oma and Ocha are coming for it.



Now, giving a nod to my other grandma, here I am at the end of the day enjoying my new favorite snack. Popcorn.

Dad bought a big box from the Boy Scouts when we went grocery shopping earlier today. He also had to ask if they were selling any beer to go with it. The den mother did not seem pleased. Only Ocha can get away with comments like that - or can he?

Anyway, back to the big box of popcorn. My counting currently only goes up to 12, and I think that there are more packages than that in the box. Thankfully, Mom and Dad put it on a low level in the pantry. I just open it up, pull it out and make it well known what I want for snack, or breakfast for that matter.



Yummo. Dad sure can make the microwave popcorn. What a chef.



Note, also the glass of water. I am living on the edge, live without a net. Sliding, swinging, wandering off on my own, dismissive of what the adults are doing. I'm practically a teenager. I'm a "two-ager."

Stay tuned.