En route to Pride, Berkeley, CA.
We walked as a family to our nearest BART subway station: the girlie, the boychild, the beloved, her brother, and his two kids. Came back with our across-the-street lesbo family chums, about six hours, several hot city miles, 5 ounces of sun screen, a half-dozen friends (both expected and unexpected), and two ice cream sandwiches later. Would we do it again next year? Ask me in 364 days.
I adore this photo.
Thanks! As so many are, this one’s a testament to chance: I ran up behind everyone, after having to circle back to our place to get crayons for the lil’ monkey to color in her sign on BART. Everyone was all lined up, and she was swinging her flag back and forth, and I dropped the camera to my waist and trotted behind and took two pictures. This one was the second one, uncropped even.
Pride was a lot easier before having kids. That said…the kids love it. So, we endure the heat and crowds and all the begging for candy. Then, we need a week to recover while they need only an hour.
I tell ya. Yesterday’s melt-down was epic.
And you should have seen the kids.