Sack-o-potatoes

Busch Gardens, another bucket list item accomplished.  It wasn't as much fun without KK et al. but we still enjoyed ourselves nonetheless.  This weekend was my 20th high school reunion and after several weeks of attempting to get ahold of the three friends that I really was hoping to see, I finally gave up on the idea when they informed me they weren't going to be able to make it.  Ten hours in a car to see people that hardly recognize me and watch a 2A football game just didn't really seem appealing.  So instead we grabbed the boys and took SeaWorld up on their offer of an annual free pass to their parks for military.  It really was cool and we are very grateful to that company for carrying on that gracious offer for so many years.  Btw, amusement parks in early October = great idea.

David is getting big.  He is the sweetest boy you could imagine, and he thinks he is every bit as big as his older brothers (ironic because Mackay tries to act every bit as young as his little brother).  But David is at a point that I vividly remember with all of my children; I can't pick him up and carry him without effort any more.  In Utah I remember pulling Beeg out of the car one night way too late, and he was so heavy I almost considered waking him and having him walk up to bed.  I can see every detail in my minds eye.  Mackay was in Idaho when I came out to visit him while transitioning down here to Florida, I lifted him up a couple five stairs and realized I wouldn't be able to do that much longer.

It happened this weekend with David.  I don't know why this is important to me but it is.  I think it's because they stop being my physical 'babies' and their heft is how I know they have grown to become even more.  On top of that, David is my last (barring unforeseen circumstances) and that realization stings a bit sharper than the first two.  I thoroughly enjoy being a dad and am trying my best to figure out how to be a better one.  It's a pleasure with that child, I really mean that.

On another note: Mackay was stressing pretty heavily about how hard we were pushing him to put his stuff away, brush his teeth, take a bath, put on his clothes, read his scriptures and generally just get ready for bed.  So in the litany of redirection he was constantly receiving he tossed the best hand-grenade he had over his shoulder on the way out of the room. "I might as well go to the Air Force Academy!  They'd treat me just like this any how and I'd get a good meal three times a day."  Let me just tell you son ... you're right.  Good luck.  I'll write you often.