The Message of the Ancients

So while staying here in lovely Alburqueque with my husband's family, we took a little trip to see some local Indian petroglyphs. A good outing for the boy, as it was his first real hike/rock climbing adventure. It really was a good trip for him since it didn't involve being trapped inside with loudly-lovable family members spinning him into a fever pitch with their attention and mostly-unprovoked light saber aggressions.

Outside.

Fresh air.

You can make as much noise as you like without A) piercing everyone's eardrums within a Starbuck's radius with your gummi-bear-powered soprano squeal or B) annoying every adult in the room (read mommy) with your 83-decibel sound effects you are realistically providing for the police car you are using as a toy/weapon against innocent felines.

We climbed 300 feet up to the top of the mesa, seeing ancient petroglyphs - including a primative scrawlin' of Kokopelli. It was this religious studies nerd's dream. The air was clear, the weather mild, the view spectacular. You could see all the way to the casino! My brother-in-law pointed this out three times. He's a giver.

And what did my little man remember? That the center console in the back seat of Uncle P's car folded down and held exactly two--count 'em--two bottles of water. That's more than one! And these bottles could be removed, replaced, knocked out, placed in, crumpled, gnarled, counted and discounted, all from the comfort of his illegal-but-already-in-the-car booster seat. He became master of his domain, a kingof console contraptions, and the refreshment-related machinations of this stalwart automotive feature became his practiced superpower. Maybe once we're home, we'll carve a cupholder into a rock, and future generations will understand the mighty power of this day.