Some weeks adulthood feels harder than others. Health insurance paperwork requires advanced degrees to decipher, to do lists never get shorter, home ownership costs take precedence over fall fashion spending and it requires an hour each night to pluck every last gray hair that's popped up. Or is that just me?
When staring at my day planner makes me feel 93, the only solution is squeezing in a bit more fun. Cheap fun, ideally. (There's that "adulthood" voice kicking in again.)
Tomorrow our Mac will be three, and we're having a day of Mac-ness to celebrate. It starts with a top-secret tour of our downtown fire station, then a lunch at his favorite Chick-fil-A and frozen yogurt at a do-it-yourself spot where he can add all the sprinkles he likes.
It's just the kind of fun I need - watching my favorite boy get giddy about some of the simplest treats on Earth. I've been anticipating that fire station tour as though it was a walk-through of Epcot by Walt Disney himself; I understand now why Christmas was always more fun for my parents than me.
I picked Mac up from school this afternoon to find out his class had been visited by two firemen and their big, shiny firetruck. Today. Of all days.
I hope that doesn't take the luster off of our Day of Mac. I can't imagine it will; is there such a thing as Too Much Fireman Time when you're his age? I doubt it.
All this fun (and adult, paperwork-type activities) are taking my mind off the heart of the matter: tonight I'll take in my two-year-old son for the last time.
He already looks every inch the three-year-old; it only makes sense that his actual age catches up.
I do hope a bit of good old-fashioned memory-making fun takes the sting off of baby Mac growing up before my eyes.