In the morning, I had a two and a half hour seminar on the topic of parenting teenagers. It ended up being a bit over three hours, actually, but it's a pretty big topic.
And (as the post that will soon show above this will show), I had an appointment to eat a lot of fried chicken at Stroud's in the afternoon.
When we got to Shawnee Mission Park, I explained for the umpteenth time that we were going to launch a couple of rockets and head to Grandma Mary's and then to Stroud's to eat what may be the world's finest fried chicken. I'd repeated this over and over because Mo's behavior is always better when she's hyper-prepared for things that are out of the routine.
But Mo loves her some fried chicken. She responded to this script by grabbing me by the head to lay a big, wet kiss on me.
I used to think I couldn't launch with the club and supervise Mo at the same time. She's pretty good with my rocket gear, not grabbing things I can't have her grabbing, but get a half dozen flyers with their stuff all spread out...
But she did great. Even helped me prep the rockets and get them on the rods. Even pushed the launch button for Kandy Kolored Tangerine Flake Streamline Baby, and when told to wait for the countdown, did so.
Em also ditched her teenage angst and actually made friends with another rocketeer's kiddo. It was about as much fun as we've ever had with rockets in only thirty minutes or so.
I didn't launch Crapper II because I realized I'd forgotten a finishing touch (the foil tape that protects the styrofoam around the motor tube).
I did get a decent shot of a fellow club-member's three engine cluster leaping off the rod. It's a bit blurry, but the thing didn't ponder it's moves: on three B6's, it was the opposite of the slow liftoff my heavy, underpowered rockets tend to.
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