The reason we’re staying here for the better part of six weeks is not so The Who can sit on his Grandma’s lap and have his ears so lovingly covered as the fire trucks come screaming down the street during the parade.
And it’s not so I can dust off my old Boston accent and perfect my flat A while ordering hometown ice cream.
Nor is it for the history lessons The Who is getting about decades-long traditions and centuries-old freedom fights.
No. While these are all great perks of this trip, the way I see it, none of those is the real reason. The real reason is this:
I could sit and watch my boy with his cousins play and talk and wrestle and love on one another forever.