If you have kids who aren’t typical, “Plan B” is probably a phrase that you’re more than familiar with.  You might even have a plan C, D, E…  That’s how we roll.  Our standard Plan B involves knowing our exits.  When I used to be a summer camp counsellor every hike route plan involved mapping out the emergency exits.  You didn’t go into the mountains unless you knew how to get out.  We’re just always prepared.  So much so that I hadn’t noticed how long it has been since we had to use our B.  But I noticed this trip.  Twice.

We got to experience some great Americana during our stay in Wisconsin.  In addition to the awesome dairy farm experience (more on that later) we celebrated the Fourth of July with a small town parade.  We all drive in separate cars so that if the fire trucks blasting sirens and trucks blaring horns becomes overwhelming we can bail, but we park next to each other in case only some of the kids need the out.  That way we can leave the required carseats behind.  It was a pretty basic Plan B, as far as our plans go.  The thing is, the plan was completely unnecessary.  The boy rocked it.  

He waited for the parade to begin.  He waited and only asked about 10 times when the parade would start, and then he just checked my watch to see how long it was to the appointed time.  But he waited, on the curb, with the family.  Just waited.  He gathered the thrown candy and shared with other (unknown) children – that he spoke to.  He sat.  He enjoyed the parade.  And then we went back to the farm like this is how we do it.  Is this how we do it?  I think the fireworks that night were really for him.

In the second instance of awesomeness personified as my boy we were road tripping in Minot, North Dakota.  And what could be more “road trip” than a great hotel waterslide?

Except we’ve never done waterslides.  They’re tall.  And fast.  And you can’t get off.  But this was kind of perfect.  We had the pool to ourselves, so there was no one else waiting when the boy sat down, and then stood up, walked forward, went down two stairs, and back up, sat down, and got up, and sat down, and got up, sat with me, and then got up, and then sat down, and asked me to go with him… and then went.  But not too fast, Mommy.  Okay, buddy, I’ll do my best to control our speed (except that we’re going really fast and I totally can not control it and we are going to seriously splash down).  Then he swam to the edge, said he didn’t want to go again, said that it was fun, asked if it was fun (Ya, buddy, that was super fun!), said it was fun, and then said… wait for it… lets go again.  So we did.  Over and over and over.  And man, was it ever fun.

I think I’m getting used to Plan A.