About a week ago on a chilly Sunday morning I picked out my best toasty cozy clothes and got bundled up.
I felt a little like a stuffed-peep but I was warm. I grabbed mom and we headed out to cheer for Papa - he ran a marathon! In case you're wondering, that's a speedy race filled with people in weird clothes, loud music and runners trying to get me.
I thought it was pretty fun to watch the runners until the runners started running at me, arms outstretched, begging for a peep-five. Umm, no. I don't give out high fives to strangers and I didn't care for such requests. I thought my pensive-face might deter them but it didn't. Runners really like high fives I guess.
Finally my favorite runner came by!
And since Papa already knew he'd be number one in his category (sixty year old grandpas that live on his street), he was happy to stop and give me a quick hug. We even got to see him at another spot a little later on!
By the time we got to the second cheering spot my attitude improved a little and I actually cheered for the runners and smiled. But don't worry, I still refused the high fives. Maybe next year.