Ethan loves him some stomp rockets. He loves them even more now that Grandma Judy got him a second set for Christmas, thereby cutting out the whole sharing/taking turns silliness that inevitably gets in the way of a preschoolers need for INSTANTGRATIFICATIONNOW!
when you've only got one set. So recently our afternoons, which have been more mid-spring than mid-winter, have comprised of a lot of stomp rocket competitions in the front yard.
Ethan has perfected the art of stomping with his feet--it has become, if you'll pardon the pun, pedestrian to him. He has found that you get a lot more air for your stomp if you use your butt as the main source of power ejecting your rocket from its perch and into the stratosphere. And you know that there's nothing funnier in the life of a 4.5 year old boy (oh, okay, any boy) than a butt. So every time he throws himself down on the big rocket launcher (and he literally hops up and lands flat on his butt--in a way that would crush my tail bone into a thousand pieces), there are fits of giggles and "I did that with my butt!!!!"'s wafting through the airwaves in our neighborhood. And we couldn't be prouder.