A friend recently invited us to a "backyard concert" for her boyfriend's band. It was awesome - the band sounded fantastic and everyone had a blast. None more so than the Boog. All of her favorite things were there: music, dancing, juice, big kids, little kids, BABIES, dogs, and...most importantly, BUBBLES.
I think her two favorite things right now are babies and bubbles. If the latter "b" word gets mentioned in her presence, she will chase you down and repeatedly say "Bubbles?" until you go outside and blow some bubbles for her. And by repeatedly, I mean she'll carry on for an hour...seriously - we've tested her. The most accurate correlation I can think up for you is that for Blair, bubbles = crack rock.
So you can imagine her delight when she got to the concert/cookout/party and saw that they had not one, but two magical machines that blew bubbles continuously all by themselves. That's right - they have bubble machines. And, they had more little bottles of bubbles than you could shake a stick at. She LOVED it! I actually got a little frightened for the other kids who dared to go near the bubble machines, or, worse yet, try to claim one of the small bottles of bubbles. She did fine, though. Guess she figured there were plenty to go around.
Here's a little pictorial for you:
Dancing and singing with Daddy.
Still dancing and singing, throwing in a few tickles.
Found the bubbles.
Found LOTS of bubbles!
Found the bubble machine.
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