Every Father’s Day, we glorify Henry’s existence by spending the day at Kennywood. (He’ll tell you this is more for me than him, but he’s just being “HUMBLE”.) This year, we were joined by Henry’s 19-year-old son Blake (whose age drops down to 10 when he’s around Chooch); Henry’s mom, Judy; Laura and Mike (their first time at Kennywood!); and Chris and Kari, who were accompanied by their adorable daughter, Katelyn: a/k/a the cause for Chooch’s flushed cheeks.
One of these days, my child will learn how to eat an ice cream from top to bottom.
Chooch can almost ride everything now! And the things he didn’t want to ride, I berated him about it until he finally conceded and then realized, “Oh my god, Mommy, you were right! I DO love this ride!”
Mommy knows, son.
“You’re doing it wrong.”
I was so uptight about Blake having Chooch out in the open waters of Kennywood (which is probably only like 4 feet deep) that I had to walk away. God only knows what they talked about during their 30 minute paddleboat getaway.
(DAMN, that would have been the perfect question for my interview with Chooch!)
Probably coming back from his 87th jaunt to the restroom.
(What? Summer makes the balls chafe, you guys.)
(By the way: nice oversized, nondescript shirt, Henry. I’m seriously going to take all of his plain t-shirts and stencil Jonny Craig’s mugshot on them. FRONT AND BACK.)
Robbinseseses. (Look at their matching calves.)
(There were no winners at this game.)
Laura and Mike needed to take a few breaks from Chooch. Sometimes I even took those breaks with them.
Despite some failed attempts to put a ginger-tinged damper on our day, we all had a really great time, I didn’t lose my pedometer, and Henry got to spend quality time with two of his three sons. I don’t even think Chooch and I fought once.
I know this is a very truncated account, but I have to keep walking.No tags for this post.