Since our bubble machine was laid to rest during cleanup week, we haven't done much in the way if bubbles this summer. Don't get me wrong, we have a million half bottles strewn about the garage; we just don't open them often because a certain someone can't resist dumping them out.
The baby toddled over with a bottle and the cutest little look on his face today so I pushed my hard heart to the side and opened it for him. It happened to be the good kind, the ones that actually make bubbles more than 50% of the time. I effortlessly blew bubbles and the diaper + crock-wearing crowd of one lit up! He joyfully chased bubbles around the yard and I remembered how much fun kids and bubbles are together. Such joy over something so simple! He was delighted and I delighted in him.
For a few minutes.
Let's not deceive thy reader into thinking it was an idyllic moment by any means. It came to a screeching halt when he grabbed the wand and shoved it in his mouth. The ensuing s***fit over me not giving him the open bottle of our good bubbles almost stole the joy of the previous moments. Almost.
Baby toddlers + bubbles = delight.