On this day that was their day. It was raining, but we watched with smiles as the welcome raindrops fell to the dry earth.
We visited friends, two small boys played alongside.
Two mothers caught up, vented, laughed and listened, a happy baby gurgling in between.
Back home and we hung out in the laundry basket.
He lined his toys up in a pattern only visible to his imaginative eyes, always letting me know if one was out of place.
We drove to the aquarium at the back of the couch in our plastic cars. We saw the moray eel hiding in its cave. We saw the sharks flying over our heads. We rescued a moray eel in the back of our truck, and transported it to the beach next to the toy box, he let it go to be free in his imaginary sea.
We rushed back to the aquarium behind the couch to rescue the princess and deliver her safely to be with the moray eel.
His imagination led, mine just followed along for the ride.
He could have played like this for hours as long as I was there by his side.
We ended the day at the food hall, some noodles, rice and a stroll through the streets.
This day, that was their day always ends well.
On other days when I have things I must get done there is usually a tantrum or two.
Never on the day that is their day.
I indulge his three year old spirit, while reconnecting with mine.