I was getting coffee yesterday morning with Lydia when Jason texted. There's a protest at the White House at 1 p.m. I want to go. Noah does too.
"Welp. I better get home." I told her. "This is what life is like now, I guess."
I got home, changed my shirt, refastened an assortment of buttons and a safety pin to my coat, and put on my ridiculous pink hat.
The boys and Jason all changed into Hamilton-themed shirts, while Noah carefully packed up the Declaration, Constitution and Bill of Rights.
He also chose a hat.
The protest quickly moved from a rally at the White House into a march past Trump's hotel and to the Capitol building (something the Women's March ended up being simply too massive to attempt), so we joined in.
For something that was somewhat hastily planned and Jason only spotted somewhat randomly on Facebook, the turnout was insane.
The line of marchers -- once a again a wildly diverse, universally peaceful crowd -- went on and on as far as I could see in both directions.
Ike took it all in with a bit of baffled wonder, while Ezra understood that we were marching against the wall, and for his Muslim friends at school.
Noah, of course, was there to fight against what he sees as the MANY clear violations of his precious documents going on right now, and to officially take his place among other Great Defenders who had come before him.
"We're part of history now," I overheard Noah tell him. "Everything happening right now is history."
We marched past the Newseum, whose balcony was full of cheering supporters, and whose facade is etched with the First Amendment.
Noah quickly recognized it, and started reading it out loud, his voice growing louder and more confident with each word.
We kept marching. Feet grew sore, legs grew tired, and backpacks (and five-year-olds) grew heavy.
And we kept marching.
All the way to the steps of the Capitol.
We eventually parted ways with the crowd, partly because everybody was way overdue for a snack and drink break...
...partly because Ike wanted to go play with some birds...
...but mostly because we'd promised Noah a museum visit, and needed to get to one before closing time.
He chose a repeat visit to the National Archives, to visit his old friends, the REAL Founding Documents.
On our way out, he showed his Bill of Rights to a security guard, pointing out all the additional "signatures" he'd gotten from his friends and teachers at school.
"Well with all those signatures," the guard said. "That needs an official stamp, don't you think?"
He pulled out a inkpad and stamped Noah's replica with a seal of the National Archives and thanked him for his support of American rights and ideals.
Noah stared at the stamp in awe. "My Bill of Rights is an official document now. It's officially real history."
He beamed at me.
"I can't believe it. I made SO MUCH history today, Mom!"
Yes you did. And you are just getting started.