Like, 8 million years ago, the kids and I went to a birthday party for a little girl who was turning two. A bunch of her friends came, including the Terrible Two (who aren't terrible at all, btw. In fact, they're sorta angelic. Just sayin')
There were insanely fancy cupcakes, and when I say fancy, I mean THEY HAD COCONUT CUPCAKES and I almost left house and home and ran away with one and married it and had little tiny coconut cupcake babies with it.
And if you remember the post about that day, which you don't, because you still weren't born when I wrote it back in Paleolithic times, you'll recall that we stayed after and hung out at the beach. But not before we had us some Fatburger, (who's cups saved our asses bladders later that night) which 2of3 said was "A'ight."
once he was allowed to see again, of course.
And then, we were off to English Bay to wait for the Celebration of Lights. (Read: Big ass fireworks show set to start 15 gazillion hours after we got to the bay) Our wait can be easily soundtracked as follows:
That last one is getting submitted to this, BTW:
And then we watched the boats come in, and the tide, too.
It was seriously, like, the most excellent night ever. We made friends with a bunch of stoned, homeless dudes, some drunk suburbanites, and a couple of grannies, none of which who were together, but all bailed us out of our freezing cold, no-blanket, sopping wet state by sharing coats, chairs, blankets, glow-sticks, and even one of them manned up and peed in a cup so my proper as all get out 10 year old could find the courage to do it, too. They hugged us when it was over, all of them, told us how glad they were that we sat with them, and carried my stroller up the beach to the sidewalk for me. God, I love Vancouver.
And so concludes round one of Mr Lady Finally Dumped Her Memory Card. More completely untimely photographs coming soon to a blog near you.