A Classic Trash Can

Yeah, I don’t know what that means, either. And I never thought I’d be blogging about a trash can, but here we are.

We gambled on the rain holding off this morning and drove to Piedmont Park in Atlanta for a year-end event for Jeffrey’s school. It’s a good thing I didn’t bet any money, because it was cold and raining. It did stop from time-to-time – just enough to make me think it was going to clear up. Right before it started raining again.

We took a trip to the bathroom where Jeffrey saw the trash can, which he declared a “classic trash can”. He was very excited. It was apparently the highlight of his day. I like a kid who’s a cheap date. ­čÖé

The “classic trash can”


(As a side note, Bennett stayed dry all night and all day today. We’re apparently starting the potty thing again. Maybe this time is for real. Jeffrey had a false start, too, when he was potty-training, although he was done by the time he was Bennett’s age. I’m trying not to compare, but I’m tired of diapers.)

We were bundled and covered, but I finally gave up hoping the rain would stop. The boys did try to convince the weather to change, but it didn’t help much.