It was that kind of evening.
The kind that deserves to be enjoyed well after the sun slips below the treeline. So after the dinner and the bath and the pajamas, we wheel our squeaky red wagon down our quiet lane. Josiah throws his head back and smiles as he shouts out to the world I'm supposed to be in bed right now! We stop every nine and a half feet for him to pick flowers from the side of the road. He carefully examines each one and proudly holds it up and names it.
Little Joe. Big Jay. Little Jay. Boppy Boo. Wappy Woo. He is the Adam of flower naming.
He spots a bird and immediately goes into his sneaky mode, tip toeing in the most exaggerated way before full on sprinting toward it. It flies off but I encourage him with Wow! That's the closest you've ever been! His wish and dream of all dreams to is catch a bird. Just one. If only those birds weren't so darn quick! But he can never ever catch one. Because I'm freakishly afraid of birds. Ornithophobia. Totally a real thing. Wikipedia says so.
Mosquitoes nip my ankles and elbows as we s l o w l y make our way around the circle. I'm about to go crazy from those little buggers when I turn to tell him to walk faster so we can get on inside. And there he is, my little wild one, belting out Hey! Sister Lady! and dancing full on Gangnam Style in the street.
That is my Josiah. My quiet, kindhearted, sensitive sweetheart of a boy who is also funny as all get out. He is witty and silly and surprises me every day with the brilliant things that come out of his mouth. Also? His hip action. Homeboy has solid dance moves. See the proof below.
Cheers to a new week, friends. May your days include golden hour walks, wild flowers, and the people that make you laugh until your side hurts.