bikes planes and automobiles · birthing babies · Keepin' it real · parenting · waxing philosophical · weight loss

Day 161: Living (Extra) Large

I’m typing this while sitting at my new desk. In about thirty minutes of ignoring my kids I was able to cut, glue, and install the slide-out tabletop which will house my keyboard, mouse, and laptop. My large monitor sits on top. This is a very comfortable setup, not least of all because I’m sitting in a chair that lets my feet sit flat on the floor while my back is supported by the chair back, my keyboard is at an appropriate height, and my monitor is at eye level.

Translation: my new desk is low, but it’s exactly the right height for me. It’s been a long time since I was this comfortable at a workstation. I’m forty years old and I deserve to be comfortable, dangit! And I’m not just talking about my desk.

I have gained fifteen pounds since the COVID shutdown. In the year prior to that, I gained fifteen when I was sidelined for months by a concussion. Both of these gains felt like huge setbacks because two years before the concussion, I managed to lose 45 pounds that really needed to be lost. I was mostly keeping it off, too. But then concussion happened, and COVID came, and here I am spilling out of my clothes.

I’ll pause here to tell you that I really hate the value judgments that come with weight gain and loss. I’ve never had as much positive attention as when I’d dropped those 45 pounds. I’ve run a half-triathlon, written and recorded a solo CD, won scholarships and academic medals, and built an awesome house. In short, I’ve done a whole ton of fabulous things. Why do I get the most praise and interest for losing weight?

All my life I’ve been hearing that weight loss is good and weight gain is bad. That thin is good and fat is bad. When I was thirteen my ballet teacher told me I should lose ten pounds if I wanted to continue dancing. I wasn’t thin, but I sure as heck wasn’t fat. I never went back to ballet.

Our colloquialisms betray those values. Phrases like “fat slob” and “fat and lazy” are rarer now than when I was a kid, but still not rare enough. People come away from performances saying things like, “He’s fat, but boy, is he an amazing dancer.” Why “but?” I love to bike, dance, and paddle. I’ve done these things when I was fat, thin, in between, and nine months pregnant. My skill level has not fluctuated with my weight; indeed, I was able to bike a farther distance with a much heavier load back when I was wearing the largest sized clothes my closet has ever housed.

Ah, larger clothes. I wish I had some. Sadly, I mostly bought into the philosophy that if you get rid of all your “fat” clothes, you’ll maintain your lower weight because you’ll want to fit into the clothes you have. So now I’m relying on stretchy capris and roomy t-shirts (some of them pilfered from Mr. December, without his knowledge — sorry, honey!), and some empire-waist dresses. Last year my summer clothes were snug but wearable. This year if I do up the button on my jean shorts, I have a muffin top to rival all others and I can’t breathe deeply. So I spend many of my days slightly very uncomfortable in the clothes I’m wearing, because maybe by making myself feel terrible in them I’ll get motivated to lose some weight. It’s ridiculous.

For the record, I don’t hate my body. It’s carried me this far, dancing, biking, walking, running, building, and birthing babies. Right now it’s doing what it’s supposed to do, saving up energy just in case there’s a famine on the way. As Eric Cartman said on South Park, “I’m not fat, I’m famine resistant!” Yes, I’m less comfortable with the extra padding around my torso, and yes, I’d like to be slimmer, but the extra weight doesn’t make me less beautiful, just less svelte.

I’ve decided that this is where I’m drawing the line. I’m going to buy myself clothes that fit me right now, not “aspirational” sized clothes, even though I don’t plan to stay at this size for too much longer. I’m going to be able to sit, walk, eat, and move without discomfort. I need to start choosing and using things — furniture, clothes, tools and equipment — that fit my body, rather than trying (and failing) to make my body fit those things and hurting myself in the process.

I need to show my daughters that the value of our bodies lies in our strength, resilience, endurance, and agility — not in our body fat percentage. And if I want my daughters to believe that, I’d better start acting as if I do too. Right now I believe it intellectually, but emotionally I’m not quite there. So I’m starting with clothes that fit me.

If anybody needs me, I’ll be in my room…y new pants.

bikes planes and automobiles · Early morning musings · family fun · Homeschool · The COVID files

Day 158: That’s a Paddlin’

We went kayaking on Lake Ontario early this morning.

For a few years now I’ve been contemplating how great it would be if I had a canoe or kayak and could go paddling anytime, without having to find a rental. Until this year I assumed that would always be a pipe dream, because where exactly would I store a canoe or kayak? Of course, there wouldn’t be just one; we’re a family of six, and two is the minimum number I could get away with just from an “adult accompaniment” point of view.

When COVID had struck and springtime came, I was looking for outdoor activities to do with the kids. I mused that we could easily go and paddle in the lake or on a river somewhere (I hear the Humber River is nice) if only we had kayaks. Renting wasn’t even an option seeing as at that point everything was closed.

Then a good friend mentioned that her family had four inflatable kayaks. Wait, what? Inflatable kayaks? That’s a thing? Are they just chintzy inflatable rafts with paddles? She assured me that the kayaks were great, they really enjoyed using them, and (best of all) they were $150 each on Amazon. I went to Mr. December and said, “Hey, let’s get some kayaks.”

He was less than enthused, that’s for sure; just like he was the first time I mentioned a bakfiets or mounting swings in the playroom. I used the same strategies as I had those two times: I did my research, kept talking about it, and then essentially informed him that I was buying two kayaks.

They arrived in under a week. And this morning we finally took them out to Cherry Beach and went for a paddle.

It was amazing. I love kayaking and canoeing. I love the feeling of power in my shoulders making its way down and outward to the blades of my paddle. The fresh air, the sunshine, the view, and the exercise — it’s such a pure, heady feeling. A bit like biking, if I was biking somewhere with lovely scenery and zero traffic.

The only regret I have about these kayaks is not buying them in the spring. To think that I could have been paddling all this time! I feel the need to make up for lost time, so from now until it gets too cold our homeschool phys ed program will be focusing on kayak skills… if I take the kids with me, that is.

bikes planes and automobiles · DIY · education · family fun · Homeschool · Kids · parenting · whine and cheese

Day 150: Elation, Frustration, Experimentation.

E rode her two-wheeler by herself today! She’s been gliding along (sort of like one does on a balance bike) for the last week, and once or twice she got her feet onto the pedals, but this was the first time that she propelled herself and while steering and balancing. It lasted long enough for me to notice, cheer, get my phone out of my back pocket, and snap this photo.

She was elated. We both were. After she had parked her bike in the garage, I held her hands and sang the Shehecheyanu (Jewish blessing on doing something for the first time or reaching important milestones.) At bedtime tonight she was full of plans to ride her own bike all the way to the playground tomorrow.

Mr. December and I have learned by now that when we encounter defiance in schoolwork, it’s usually a sign of an underlying skill deficit. I’m often able to break down the problem to a point where the child can be coached through the lesson, but this time I’m stumped.

N is working his way through level 3 of Winning with Writing (great title, I know. It has companion programs called Growing with Grammar and Soaring with Spelling.) He’s now into the lessons about writing specific types of paragraphs. I was so excited to get to this point in the book because it breaks down the writing process to a few very simple, very concrete steps. K has had a much easier time of writing since she did these lessons. But N just won’t do it.

I’ve offered ideas for topics. For one lesson I actually created a rough outline for him (point form) and he wrote it from there. Today and yesterday he wouldn’t even do that. I’ve asked him what’s going on. I’ve levelled with him and told him how I know he’s frustrated and I am too, and that to my mind his refusal to work just looks like rudeness and laziness, but I know it’s not. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to yell, “JUST DO YOUR WORK!”

The book has already broken the assignment down into the smallest possible chunks, so I don’t think I can make it any easier. Do I drop it and find a different way to get him writing, maybe by having him strike up an email correspondence with his grandparents? Do I stop nagging but continue to apply the consequence of not finishing the assigned work? Do I keep on doing what I’m doing, sitting next to him and combining understanding and support with a reminder that he can do hard things and I expect him to keep trying?

At least he’s produced more written work since April than he did from September to March, so I feel just a bit more effective than school. But holy moly, I’m out of my depth here.

Mr. December decided to turn yesterday’s DIY sprinkler into today’s science lesson. He taught the kids about water pressure and discussed how the sprinkler spray should be weaker the higher up we place it, because it takes energy for the water to flow upward. To illustrate, he tied the hose and sprinkler to a rope that I lowered from the attic window; he turned on the tap and I hoisted the sprinkler 25 feet into the air. The spray remained strong the entire way up, denying Mr. December the opportunity to say, “See, kids? The pressure went down as the sprinkler went up!” Instead he exclaimed, “Wow! We’ve got some good water pressure.”

If memorable experiments lead to better understanding, it was a successful science lesson. And if the kids won’t remember or retain it, at least it was a fun way to pass the time. Sometimes that counts as a win.

bikes planes and automobiles · education · Kids · waxing philosophical

Day 135: Learning

E is learning to ride a bike.

You’d think that since E is my fourth child, I might remember how to teach this skill. You’d be wrong. It appears that teaching bike skills is like potty training: so exhausting and frustrating that my brain has erased all memory of the last time I did it.

This time I was armed with a new gadget: a “Balance Buddy”, which is a real back-saver. Instead of holding onto the underside of the bike seat and one handlebar, I just hold a nice, tall handle and walk behind the bike as E pedals.

Her determination to master biking reminds me of how she learned to walk. Every time she falls, she says, “I’m gonna do this!” and tries again. I’d love to say that it’s a beautiful example of self-motivated learning, but I’d be lying. The truth is that she gets a chocolate chip every time she tries to lift her feet off the ground, every time she falls, and everytime she gets back up. She had her first epic wipeout about an hour ago, which got her a scraped knee and four chocolate chips.

When she hit the pavement I ran to her. “Hooray!” I said. “Your first wipeout! Awesome!” She stopped crying, stared at me, and brightened considerably when I told her that a scraped knee was worth an extra two chocolate chips. After that she was back up and bolder than before, yelling at me to let go.

It makes me wonder how schools might be different if we rewarded failing and trying again, instead of just lauding the successful attempts. How much more creativity would we see? What if failure was seen as learning, and the only negative outcome was if you stopped trying?

bikes planes and automobiles · blogging · education

Day 126: Traffic

That Mr. December. He’s a tough act to follow… and yet follow I must.

I’ve been thinking a lot about traffic these days: internet traffic as well as the usual kind.

I have a WordPress dashboard that shows me daily statistics for my blog. They’ve done away with my favourite section, the one that tells you what search terms brought people to your site (for your amusement, here’s one such list from 10 years ago.) The data set that amazes me regularly is the list of countries from which people are reading this blog.

Canada and the United States are no surprise. I know plenty of people there. I do have family and friends in New Zealand, so I guess its appearance on my list isn’t a mystery either. Then it gets a bit interesting: Denmark… Hungary… I don’t know anybody there. The list goes on: Singapore, Colombia, Ukraine, Algeria, South Africa. Nigeria. Bosnia. I’ll stop now because this isn’t about how widely read my blog is — it’s about how amazed I am that people choose to spend their time online reading my blog when there is so much content out there.

So to everyone reading this from somewhere else — okay, and all the folks at home too — Hi! I’m glad you’ve joined me here. If you ever want to pop into the comment section and tell me how you found this blog, I’d really enjoy reading that… because, as I said, WordPress has stopped telling me how many people found my site by googling things like “Penis Loofah.” (I kid you not.)

And in the other kind of traffic-related news: even with the Toronto area only at level two of reopening after shutdown, traffic here can once again be described as “aggravating”. I really miss those first few weeks of quarantine when I could drive anywhere without being beset on all sides by drivers who don’t signal, drivers on their phones, drivers who don’t understand the meaning of a green arrow… in other words, Toronto drivers. Of course there was the added bonus of the price of gas being closer to what I used to pay in university; that was kind of cool. It’s too bad there was nowhere I needed to go, because I discovered that driving is still fun for me — but only when the roads are empty.

Now that the traffic is back, I’m back to being irritable in the car. I’m driving our nanny here and back home (10 minutes in no traffic, 20 in bad traffic) every day, and I’ve noticed the increase in traffic volume, as well as the proliferation of bad drivers. It’s kind of disturbing to think that even though there are plenty of cars on the road, there are still lots of people who aren’t travelling to work. Have I forgotten how bad the traffic used to be here?

I probably have forgotten. And since we’re homeschooling this year, I won’t have to drive in rush hour every morning and afternoon. As Martha Stewart would say, “That’s a good thing.”

A long and winding road trip · bikes planes and automobiles · family fun

Day 115: Road trip winds down.

This is so typical of me. I start something with all the enthusiasm and with the best of intentions, and then I go on a tangent and never come back to the original goal. That changes today — either that, or “never” is now.

Huh. We really were in the middle of nowhere.

So… after we left Boston we drove through Vermont for a while. It was beautiful, but so isolated that there was absolutely no cell reception for several hours. We noticed it when my phone stopped displaying highways and arrows and started showing us someone’s geometry homework a blank Cartesian plane.

Lesson learned: Always take a paper map along on a road trip, even if you have GPS. And no, the printed map of our route that I laminated onto the kids’ clipboards was nowhere near detailed enough for us.

So on we drove, keeping our eyes peeled for road signs. The kids got hungry. Someone needed to pee. We decided to look for a friendly, local place to eat… and we found it.

The sign at the side of the road said “Good Food Here”, so we stopped to eat at The Old Hancock Hotel. We added Toronto to their blackboard of visitors’ hometowns and sat in a room that looked more like some Granny’s dining room than like a restaurant. The apple crumble was outstanding and the service was friendly.

The next day, after an overnight stay in a hotel with a pool (read: we stayed up late to swim), we drove to the Ausable Chasm for some spectacular views, hiking, and rafting. The kids moaned and complained about the long lineup; I tried to distract them by pointing out interesting lichens on the wall of the chasm. That worked for a bit. Thankfully the line started moving faster and we were soon on a raft.

The chasm was awe-inspiring, especially the part where you can clearly see where two huge sheets of rock met millions of years ago, resulting in one going up and over top of the other.

We left the chasm and drove to Montreal, where we checked into what would be our final hotel.

The next day started out at Pointe-a-Calliere, a museum and archaeological site that explains the history of Montreal. We saw some ruins and walked through an old sewer (now sewage-free and beautifully lit). The kids enjoyed an exhibit on pirates that included a model pirate ship to climb around and explore.

After a beef-and-chicken fondue for lunch — which, to our surprise, N ate and loved! — we went down to the Old Port and got lost at SOS Labyrinthe, a giant maze escape game. In the end K and T won, but a good time was had by all.

Once out of the labyrinth, we explored the rest of the Old Port. K and R chose to use their remaining pocket money to ride the zipline while the rest of us stayed on the ground. Dinner was frozen bananas dipped in chocolate.

On the last day of the trip, Mr. December pulled R away from packing to visit a Barbie Expo nearby. R was in heaven.

On our way out of Montreal we stopped for a picnic with Mr. December’s Aunt, Uncle, and cousins… and a surprise guest! One of Mr. December’s good friends who now lives in Montreal had arranged with our Aunt to surprise us at the picnic. We feasted, sat in the wading pool, and chatted; then we were on our way home with nothing between us and Toronto but an abnormally large apple and some excellent pie à la mode.

bikes planes and automobiles · community · DIY · education · Independence · Kids · parenting

Day 110: The Curriculum of Life

Today we set up another assembly line, for baking this time. Two people measured ingredients and passed them to the next two, who worked the mixer and then passed the batter to the last two, who spread the batter out to fill the pans. All together we made one hundred brownies and sixty-five strawberry oat bars; tomorrow we’ll deliver them to Ve’ahavta, who will distribute them from their street outreach van.

Mr. December and I are leaning more and more towards homeschooling this coming year. I know we need to do more than just math and English, so I’ve been reading books and researching curricula. I’m pretty sure that baking for the homeless qualifies as community service and Home Ec (do they call it domestic science now? I have no idea…) I think shop class will also be pretty easy for me to cover: last week I taught K how to change the windshield wiper blades on our van. She enjoyed that so much that I ended up showing her what’s under the hood of the car, where the car’s fuse boxes are, and how to open the gas tank.

So I don’t know yet how I’m going to teach them history. So what? At least my kids will be able to cook and bake, perform basic car maintenance, and contribute to their communities. Maybe real life is the best curriculum we could use.

A long and winding road trip · bikes planes and automobiles · el cheapo · family fun · Kids

Day 107: Boston (road trip report)

We left the dude ranch and drove to Boston. On the way through Brookline we met up for dinner with a friend from Mr. December’s university days. Checked into our hotel room — which was a two-room suite, a real treat after sharing one room for so many nights in a row. Before bed we watched an Oversimplified video about the American Revolution to prepare the kids (and ourselves) for what we’d be doing the next day.

We woke up to rain. We took an Uber to the Boston Tea Party Museum, where we participated in a re-enactment of the church meeting and the subsequent throwing of tea off the ship (one of the actual Tea Party ships, which is now part of the museum.) After viewing the indoor exhibits, we went upstairs to the tea room and enjoyed some scones and a few antique table games.

From the Tea Party Museum we could see the Boston Children’s Museum, which hadn’t been on our itinerary. Still, it was another indoor venue to explore while we waited out the rain. Right before we went to buy tickets, I remembered that with our Ontario Science Centre membership we had reciprocal benefits with a whole host of museums. Some googling later, and after a quick phone call to the OSC membership desk (“Um, could you please email me a copy of my membership card? I’m in Boston and my card is in Toronto…”) we got in for free.

This was where we lost N. He was with us one minute, and then he wasn’t. Fortunately we were wearing our matching family trip t-shirts, so he was easy to describe and was found very quickly.

Eventually we took another Uber to Boston Common and the Public Gardens. I had hoped the Frog Pond would be open for wading and water play, but apparently in Boston you can’t play with water if it’s raining… or something like that. Anyhow, we let the kids play in the playground for a while before we moved on to the Public Garden. In a heart-warming turn of events, R helped E get across the monkey bars by holding her legs up.

The Public Garden was where the magic happened. We sat on a bench and I read Make Way for Ducklings aloud to the kids, sitting in the exact place where the story was set — our view over the top of the book was identical to the book’s illustrations. When we had finished, we took pictures with the statues of the ducks from the book.

It was a two kilometre walk to Boston’s North End, where we were meeting a friend for dinner. Firm believers in developing grit and in “you can do hard things”, we walked it with the kids. To their credit, the complaining was minimal; their effort was rewarded with fresh cannolis.

We walked back to our hotel (maybe a twenty minute walk), stopping along the way at the famous Old North Church. The kids didn’t remember its significance from the Oversimplified video, so I whipped out my phone and read them Longfellow’s poem Paul Revere’s Ride.

The next morning we toured the USS Constitution museum and ship, which was conveniently located across the parking lot from our hotel. The museum was outstanding. Once again, I learned a lot about the causes of the War of 1812, about ship building, and about the life of a sailor (that was in the well-executed children’s area of the museum.) Then we climbed aboard the ship (nicknamed “Old Ironsides”) and clambered below decks to see where the crew slept and ate, and to discover what the ship used for ballast (rocks. Large ones.)

That was the end of our time in Boston. We loaded up the car and headed out on the road with only our phones and Google Maps to guide us. Until, that is, our phones displayed… a blank cartesian plane.

Okaaay… now what?

Lesson learned: always, aways bring along a paper map as backup. You never know when you might drive off the highways and onto someone’s geometry homework.

bikes planes and automobiles · community · education · family fun · Kids · what's cookin'

Day 104: Contentment

As I type this, I’m sitting on our back porch being caressed by evening breezes. The sounds of my children playing (long past bedtime, but isn’t this what summer is for?) and the birds calling from tree to tree are a backdrop to a live online concert of camp tunes. The clouds look like cotton candy. Right now, everything is all right.

This morning we made one hundred and seventy-six sandwiches for the Ve’ahavta street outreach van. Mr. December made the kids (one at a time) be the supervisor, and coached them to figure out a method, maintain quality control, and keep the assembly line moving at a steady rate. The three older kids also got to practice their handwriting by making labels for each of the 176 sandwich bags, and they got to see how multiplication is the simplest way to count large quantities of items.

We talked about assembly lines and how they revolutionized manufacturing. The kids knew that Henry Ford was famous for making assembly lines very profitable (apparently they learned that from the musical Ragtime.) We chatted a bit about children’s work in times past.

“You know,” K observed, “E is the best person to bring us the bread and carry away the sandwiches. It’s easy work and it lets her keep moving.”

“That’s why throughout history little kids often did those kinds of jobs. It freed up older children and adults for the skilled tasks,” Mr. December responded. “If you had been born a couple of hundred years ago, you might have had jobs too.”

We decided to bike the sandwiches over to Ve’ahavta’s office, which is about five kilometres from our house. That was five kilometres, uphill, on a bakfiets (which weighs 100 pounds) carrying E and all of the sandwiches. Within fifteen minutes my legs were shaking, but — and this is one of my favourite things about biking for exercise — we had to get those sandwiches to their destination, so I persevered.

We biked to my parents’ house for a swim, and then found reasons to hang around a bit longer. I’d forgotten how nice it is to just be in their house with no particular agenda.

And now it’s long past the kids’s bedtime, and I must put E to bed. The sun is down, the leaves are rustling, and a few diehard birds are still chirping to each other. It’s peaceful. Everything is all right.

A long and winding road trip · bikes planes and automobiles · crafty · DIY · family fun · parenting

Day 99: More road trip? Why not!

I’m not going to give you a day-by-day account of our two week road trip, as tempting as that is to me (hey, sometimes it’s hard to come up with a new blog post every day.) But let’s pick up in Niagara Falls, where we left off.

We crossed the U.S. border at Lewiston and headed for the Niagara Power Project Visitors’ Center (yes, I spelled “center” wrong. American spelling, people!) — I can’t say enough good things about this place. I can’t speak for the kids, but I learned a lot about how electricity is produced and transported. We took part in a simulation of a day at the power plant — each of us at our own station focusing on different aspects of the job. And my favourite, the very cool table where you try to create an electrical grid by placing homes, businesses, generators, transformers, and towers in the appropriate places. We were there for three hours and the kids didn’t want to leave. And did I mention that it was free? Seriously, it’s worth the drive to Lewiston (when the borders open back up, of course.)

N and his electrical grid. The checkmarks mean his connections are all good.

Later, at the Corning Museum of Glass, K and I made our own glass pendant necklaces while Mr. December and the others tried their hands at sandblasting ice cream goblets.

We finally rolled into Scranton, PA late that night after going to the wrong Courtyard by Mariott Scranton (couldn’t they have come up with two different names?), where E showed us the sore toe she’d been whining about since Niagara Falls. I was shocked to see that her entire toe was swollen. I felt like the world’s worst mom for spending two days telling her, “I hear that your foot hurts, but that’s because we’re just walking more than usual. You’ll be fine tomorrow.”

She wasn’t; by the next morning, E’s toe was enormously swollen, shiny, and very painful. Mr. December took her to a doctor while we cooled our heels in the hotel lobby. Eventually they returned with a diagnosis of cellulitis, a bottle of antibiotics, and instructions to keep tabs on whether the redness was spreading or receding.

We rushed straight over to the Lackawanna Coal Mine (listening to my themed playlist that included Coal Miner’s Daughter and Workin’ in a Coal Mine), hoping to catch the last tour before it was too late. Thankfully, we were on time and they had a wheelchair down inside the mine, so we wouldn’t have to carry E on our backs. I spent most of the mine tour (and the rest of the day) saying, “OK, kids. Remember this next time you want to complain about having to load the dishwasher. You could have been born in another time and be that kid sitting in the dark all day long!” To this day, when they complain, I say, “At least you’re not working in a coal mine.”

I wish we’d had more time at the mine. Right next to the mine shaft was a Museum of Anthracite that we didn’t get to see, and the chance of us returning there at any point is almost zero.

We got to our destination later than we wanted to that evening, since our medically necessary late start meant that we hit New York City rush hour on the way into town. It was okay, though — we listened to a few episodes of the Tell me Something I Don’t Know podcast (which is highly entertaining.) As we inched through the tunnel into Manhattan, we turned on a playlist I had compiled of songs about New York. Know who noticed and/or enjoyed it? Nobody.

Since we would be parking our car for the duration of our stay in the city, we had to take out everything we might want. So the big bins with our shoes and sweatshirts got loaded onto the luggage cart, along with the two suitcases, the schoolwork box, and everyone’s backpacks. And the stuffies. Also pillows. Passers-by on the sidewalk seemed entertained by our attempts to keep everything from falling while children exited the vehicle one after another; it was a bit like a road trip clown car.

I dropped the car off at one of those parking garage towers where they take your car at the entrance and put it on an elevator to some other level, then enjoyed the relative peace of a two-block stroll without any whining, arguing, or begging for snacks. I rode the elevator up to the top floor, where we had booked what Manhattan hotels call a “suite” and hotels everywhere else call a closet. It actually was large enough for all of us, but just barely. At bedtime it was basically wall-to-wall mattresses and beds.

It was too late to do anything or go anywhere. That night was an ETB (Early To Bed) for all of us — the next day we’d be exploring the m&ms store Manhattan!