"Night night time! GO Dadda's House!"

 Those words are Jackson's battle cry when he is done for the day. Or at least done for the moment. If he falls or realizes that he needs a nap or loses a battle over a toy with Ayla, he always cries, "Night night time!"

 We are often more than happy to oblige and I am still so thrilled that he is articulating what he needs, after a comparatively slow development using words. Jackson took his time talking, and we spent much of last year guessing what he wanted, because almost everything was described by the word "Adee!" There was many a frustrating moment with me standing at the kitchen cabinet, searching for the snack he was pointing out...Jackson saying "adee" over and over and shaking his head as I picked the wrong item.

  Whatever mental roadblock we were facing, promptly disappeared when Gregory returned from his ATC training last December. (I think we were all in a psychological slump during that time.) Words started to spew from Jackson's mouth easily and he's putting together some very coherent sentences now. Just like any parent, I stressed about something that eventually resolved itself.

 Now he won't stop telling (more like yelling) us what he wants to do...every...second...of...the...day. 

 The other night, we attended CanalFest in the suburb of Tonawanda. The rumor was that the fireworks were pretty bomb - and after watching the 4th of July fireworks through the branches of a tree, we needed a good fireworks fix.

 We wandered around the carnival for an hour, spending an atrocious $10 for one ride on the Ferris wheel and indulged in funnel cakes and fried Oreos. The town of Tonawanda was nuts, so crowded with people... it took us a harrowing, claustrophobia-inducing 10 minutes to cross over a bridge to find a somewhat secluded spot for fireworks-watching. Gregory knew which bridge they were launching the fireworks from, and we sat down on a curb close to that point.

 Then the artillery started, or so one would assume from the loud, blasting noises and bright lights! We were so close to the fireworks that I could hear/feel the blasts exploding in my head. Ayla was loving it, Elliot looked at me to gauge the situation (once I smiled at him, he was assured).... and Jackson lost his mind. Crying, covering up his face and yelling, "Night night time! Go Dadda's house now!". So, for the entire fireworks show, he cried, cowered and basically hated life.

"No mer fireworks!"

 Who ever thought that one of Gregory's children would hate fireworks? Perhaps we caught him at the wrong time of day; next time we will try our luck sitting more than 10 feet away from the blast-off bridge. At least the Ferris wheel was a success.