It's one of those things we'll laugh about later. I mean, now.

A couple weeks ago, Ben and I had a long overdue date night, where we ate dinner at the restaurant we went to the night he proposed to me, then went to see a ridiculously cheesy Adam Sandler movie. I won't go into specifics, but let me just tell you, Vanilla Ice saved that movie, yo.

This date night took place in Angola, and Ben's parents graciously watched the kids for us, overnight even. 

In the morning, Ben and I woke up, headed to Ben's parents to say good morning to the kids, and then geared up for the roughly 3.5 mile organized walk/run around Lake Gage.

Since Ben's knee surgery, he has been itching to get into more physical activity; add to that all the awesome races I have been doing and Ben decided doggonit, he was going to run this race and get back into race shape come hell or high water. 

Here we are before the run.

Around Lake Gage is a fairly tough course, I gotta tell you, as I've repeatedly told my sister-in-law, who runs that course regularly, which puts to shame my neighborhood course with its pathetic little inclines I call hills. 

Also, I haven't been training much lately on running. I've been doing a crap-ton of weight lifting, and feeling pretty good about it, but not much running.

So the run was kind of tough. I don't know the exact distance, and I timed it myself on my heart rate monitor watch, and came up with a time of 31:07 for 3-point-something miles. 

Ben followed me in at about 40:40 or so, not bad for his first race, but with sore ankles and knees.

Since then, his knee has only gotten worse, stiffens up easily, and I keep telling him this means he should probably lay off the running and stick to biking-type activities, to which he responds, "You telling me that just makes me want to keep running even more."

He might be a tad stubborn.

Our kids come by it honestly, at least.

Anyway, afterwards, the kids played with their cousins for a bit in this here tree:

At some point, cousin Nathan got a load of tree sap in his hand, and apparently wiped it on my Noah's head. I didn't know this until much later.

As in, after we'd driven back to South Bend for the kids' t-ball game, and then driven back to Angola to swim in the lake for a while.

When I did notice it, it was because Noah was picking at it while at his Grandma's house. It was about a quarter size patch of sticky sap. I told him when we got back to the camper, I'd clean it out for him.

That didn't happen.

Because? At some point, while I was not paying attention, he kept picking at it.

And picking.

And picking.

And picked himself a bald spot.

At first, I was horrified, and tried to figure out how to cover it up. 

Should I shave his head? Load it with hair gel and perform a mini-combover? Make him wear a hat every day for the next two months until it is at least mildly hidden?

And then I got over it. 

Because, he's still cute.

(There. Problem solved. Kid, you're wearing a T-ball helmet until September.)