A few months ago, Brock was terrified of hot air hand dryers.  If one turned on in the near viciniity (as in, somewhere in the same bathroom) he freaked out.

At the start of this recent vacation we stayed at a campground with hot air dryers on the bathroom.  Brock wasn’t nearly so frightened, but he did make a beeline out the door when I started drying my hands.

By our second campground stint, something had changed (probably that something called ‘growing up’) and Brock now fully endorsed hot air hand drying, particularly when he could make funny faces in the reflective parts of that dryer.

A minor step taken in the grand adventure of life.