Here's to You, Ramsey!

Today was Ramsey Day. Really, it was yesterday, but due to TS Hanna, it was postponed to today. We happily traveled up the road to Daddy's hometown to celebrate its goodness.

Shortly upon our arrival at the festivities, a nice VFW gentleman gave James the flag you see in the photo. Of course it is pointy and dangerous. Of course James loved it. Of course we didn't take it away immediately after passing Mr. VFW. It didn't take long for James to begin gnawing on it (teething is in full effect).

Not long later, while we were examining the wares at one of the booths, a lady at the neighboring booth leaned over to say, "She's really upset," pointing at her co-volunteer. Ms. Co-volunteer sat in her wheelchair shaking her head at James. "He's going to give himself a tonselectomy." Thanks. I told them they were right, it was dangerous, his favorite toy is a wooden spoon, he's teething, we'll keep an eye on him, blah, blah. But I didn't take the flag away from him.

Yet. Eventually I did. And he cried.

Later, we found a picnic table in the shade. Dan & I sat across from each other while James napped in his stroller. When he awoke, we started getting him ready for lunch. I was sitting with James in my lap, and Dan was standing getting the bib and food ready. A family came and plopped themselves down on Dan's side of the table, taking up the entire bench but facing away from us. We thought it was a bit odd, but Dan just moved over to our side of the table, and we fed James.

After eating, James was banging on the table and babbling. Hearing his babbles Ms. Seat-stealer turns around and makes a sound of shock, reaching for his hand (yes, she actually grabbed James's hand!) telling us that he'd get a splinter. Due to the fact she'd annoyed us by sitting down in Dan's spot and touching our child, we both assured her James was fine and began stroking the table ourselves. The Family Seat-stealers soon got up and left.

So, my apologies, good citizens of Ramsey. We know that you had our son's best interest at heart. We did take away his impailing flag and move his hands off of the wooden table. We're sorry for being so defensive.

(Oh, and lady with the baby in the Bjorn, I really wanted to tell you to put her arms under the straps correctly, but I held my tongue.)