I’ve been slacking on the blog, but for good reason. We just got back from the beach. The first hour of the trip up turned the minivan into a small torture chamber with Connor whining for candy, to get out of the car, for the car to stop and for any toy that was not within my reach while Tristan fussed a chorus of discontent. The highlight of the road trip was watching Jorma crawl through a McDonalds play area, like a guinea pig moving through gerbil tubes, as he searched for Connor’s missing sandals. Turns out Connor had put his sandals into the cubbies at the foot of the play area just like he was supposed to, although I’m not sure how he knew to do this, since I’m pretty leery about letting him into the fast food play areas, infested with germs as they are. I mean. Really. How often do you think those crawl through tubes get cleaned? Once the sandals and children were safely tucked into the car, we resumed the trip reaching the beach in a record six hours.
I’ll post more about the trip later because you know I’ve got stories that will both make your ovaries ache for want of a child (or more children) or send you diving over the fence to the “Maybe a puppy WOULD be better than kids” plan of action. Meanwhile, I’ve got some sleep to catch up on.
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