I’d like to credit myself with our super-soft landing this trip, but if I’m being honest, credit is really due to both of us. The Who is 6 months older than the last time we drove up here and we know that, historically, the spring and summer six months of any age for him are the better six. So, there’s that. He’s also gotten more adept at entertaining himself for longer stretches, so the car ride doesn’t feel as long or torturous. For my part, I’ve gotten better at knowing how and when to arrive (close to bedtime, but not after — and to an empty house or a house with just my aunt and uncle in it.) A quick hello, a bedtime routine, and a long sleep. We’re all better for it.
Tonight, he is well-fed (thanks to a hearty breakfast and dinner at Grandma’s), bathed (thank you again to Grandma simply for owning a bathtub) and already asleep, snuggled up with the absurdly large stuffed dog he helped to pay for out of his allowance yesterday at Ikea.
(I’m sunburnt and hungry, but that doesn’t mean anything special except that it’s summer, 9pm, and I’m predictable.)
I have high (but reasonable) hopes for this month ahead. A week of theatre camp starting tomorrow, a handful of social plans, a 10-day visit from m*, a Sox game, a wedding, an anniversary celebration…and then? Then we have a second grader on our hands. I’ve got a Steve Miller Band lyric at the ready, but maybe I will spare you…
Or, maybe not. 😉