Our son challenged all comers to a duel on Wii Fencing, and defeated them all soundly. Suddenly it was 11:00 and, anticipating our 4:30 am airport shuttle, the party came to an abrupt end. We never did make those lemons into lemonade, see the house where our son was born or make that pilgrimage to Willow Glen Yoga.
The next day we were stupid after a night of too little and too restless sleep. The taxi came to the wrong address, the bags were over their weight limit, and apparently the inferior Chocolate Croissant we got for Wuggie at the airport just before boarding was for him the last straw. (I didn't think it was possible to make a bad chocolate croissant, but Wuggie sure was disappointed with this one.) In desperation we paid the fee for in-air satellite television, and watched "World's Strictest Parents" and "Top Chef" marathons the whole way home. (Except Wuggie, who prefers the GPS channel).
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The next morning we battled jet-lag and Gramma took us on a short walk to a historic coffee shop complete with waitress/cook in Revolutionary era garb. (Gramma is a total hero, by the way, for watching our dogs for 12 days, providing airport shuttle and historic breakfast outing).
We loaded the car four our 5 hour drive home. Home. It was a beautiful sunny day, and the tulips waited for us. Spring has just begun.
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1 comment:
sad and beautiful.
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