Candy cigars and pooping really celebrate the birth of this great nation.

Happy fourth of July!
(aka. the do-they-make-liquid-Valium-for-calming-the-dog-and/or-toddler-during-fireworks?-holiday)

Here we are at a Fourth of July parade with two (count 'em, TWO) flags. Rah RAH America! (Welcome to my virtual scrapbook, apparently! All I need is some pre-cut paper flags and eagles alongside quotes from our favorite presidents, written in curly script, of course.)


Zoe loved the "dancers" (little cheerleading pom pom girls) and kept asking for more.


I am always moved to tears by seeing veterans, especially the WW2 vets in their old cars and uniforms. No matter how cynical or hopeless I sometimes feel about this country, the vets never cease to move me. Not so much the cigar lovers of America, or whoever they were, on this huge loud float, blasting "Bad to the Bone", smoking fat cigars and throwing candy cigars to all the kids on the sidelines.

(For REAL.)

In other birth-of-our-nation-celebration news, Zoe pooped in the toilet today! YAY! and also: AH CRAP. Does this mean we're potty training? Can't I skip this part??