My nephew E turned 3 today. To celebrate, his father and uncles put together a rocket for us to shoot outside tonight. I don't mean one of those little air pressure deals. This thing had a motor. All of the guys were hunched over all the various parts for an hour before the rocket emerged ("We don't need no instructions"). Then to the delight of all the 163 billion mosquitoes outside tonight, we paraded outside to see this wonderful feat in action.
Little E got to press the button. I really don't think he cared. His father told him this was "all for you, son", but what he really meant was that it was "all for your dad and his equally childish brothers, son".
The rocket sailed way up into the sky and then slowly parachuted back to earth. I just knew it was going to come and land on my head, but miraculously, that crisis was averted. Instead, I was able to get out of the way, and all the kids ran to catch it. One of them might have been successful if not for my determined husband J knocking them out of the way.
With a proud look of success on his face, he emerged victorious. Score!
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