Little Bites

Piper Finnian is notorious for a lot of reasons around these parts.

Standing anywhere she can gather a crowd and announcing, "Everybody! Dance!"

Agreeing with all who may perchance comment about her cuteness. "I cooot!"

Wrapping grown men around her finger by announcing how much she loves them. Men such as Kevin Keigley, Nathan Heffington, Walter Howard, Jody Deming, Jamal Quattlebaum and Greg Boone.

Singing "How He Loves" at the top of her lungs.

Finding the half-eaten bag of M&Ms reserved for potty training and eating the remainder of the entire bag before being caught.

Recognizing songs by Michael Jackson and Ben Harper without any prompting.

Waiting until naptime every day to drop a toxic poop in her diaper.

And eating tiny bites of fruit and returning the fruit to its original container without my knowledge.

Such as apples in a wooden bowl on the kitchen table. (Tiny Piper bites through the whole bowl full.)

And this row of semi-eaten carrots, neatly lined up across the counter.

(I love this picture of the four of us. It makes us look as if we are just extras in Jody's life. And that's funny to me.)

I guess I owe a big fat thank you to my older brother Danny.

Thanks, man.

Back in the day (the "day" being the years he spent driving Douglas and I back and forth to school in the silver hatchback Tercel covered in skateboarding stickers), Danny introduced me to what is arguably one of the greatest rock bands ever formed. A little Irish group named U2.

This was early on. As in, I still own several U2 cassette tapes. (Remember those?)

Fast forward to the present.

This week Kevin and I, along with our good pals Mandy and Jody, made a bit of a pilgrimage to Atlanta to see that now-internationally known band do their thing.

It was a real Look Up Lodge gathering - Nate, Lanier and Walter attended as well. Jane saw them the week before. And so did Walter. Yes, that means he went twice. Within the same week.

It was no small undertaking to make this happen, actually. Well, there really is no longer any small undertaking if it involves our family.

Aunt E and Oma graciously functioned as the grown ups in our absence. (More on that tomorrow!) And Nate and Jenn Rector kindly took care of the little Otto while we were at the actual show. (It requires a great deal of manpower to harness these Keigley kids.)

Actually, the whole adventure would have had a very different ending if Jody had not jokingly asked before we buckled our seat belts in the driveway, "Did you remember the tickets?" I think he probably expected a chuckle or a "good one Jody". Nope. He got a crazed Lacey leaping out of the car and bolting back to the house to procure the precious paper slips from their resting place on the top shelf of the bookcase.

Anyway.

The concert was . . . incredible. Crazy loud, reminding me of my advanced years. But Bono is amazing and The Edge is . . . . you know, The Edge. He's ridiculously good.

These guys have had such a long and successful career - it's astounding. They have been a band for almost more years than I have been breathing. I mean, these guys are someone's dad! (I wonder what my life would have been like if Carl Eibert had chosen rock and roll over dairy cows. Was that ever an option Dad?)

Everything about the experience was fun. The car ride. The beef jerky. The Mexican restaurant in Lilburn (or wherever we were) where I tried my first chimichanga. (A word spellcheck does not recognize.) The fact that it was just cold enough to justify wearing my new boots. Sitting in the backseat of the XTerra with my husband. Seeing Nate and Jenn Rector in their cute house with their quirky dog taking care of our youngest boy. Driving by the entrance of Mandy and Jody's first home. Bono singing "Amazing Grace". Me singing along too loudly to "Sunday Bloody Sunday". The whole thing.

(Oh, I guess that's not entirely true. I was not keen on paying $30 to park on a gravel pile in Atalanta.)

This post has no real point.

We had a great time.

And I wanted to talk about it.

I guess that's the point.