There aren't that many Memorial Days that are all that memorable for me. A few, but not too many. Though if you ask me what were we doing for Memorial Day weekend in 1990, that's an easy answer: we were waiting. John (who was eventually born on June 4) was due on May 26, which fell over the long weekend. And so we waited. And waited. And waited. Memorial Day weekend came and went, and no John. Peter wasn't as stressed about the whole baby thing as we were, and he had no trouble enjoying his last days as an only child. Here he is in the backyard of our house in Mission Viejo, proving that a hose and a bucket are all a 20-month old needs to have a cool time on a warm May day in Southern California.
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