I'm really to busy this week to be posting, but since I have received some requests for misadventures of the Dayton family, I will oblige.
We drove to Philadelphia. Or, if you're HB, Philadeedelphia. Kind of like Scarlett O'Hara and her Fiddle de dee, that's where we are.
To get here? Drove down I-81. That is a mistake. If you plan to drive in the SOUTHERLY direction on I-81 from the NORTHERNLY part of Pennsylvania (let's talk about spelling... how did Pennsylvania ever happen?) you should really reconsider. I will sum up the experience this way: Traffic was stopped so often and for so long, I taught my children how to do Chinese Fire Drills. And they all are in car seats. Also, Miss O drove for six miles.
Just kidding.
Or am I?
No, really, I'm kidding.
Honest.
Anyway, we have been hanging with the Well-Read Family. Everyone's in love. Miss O and the Well-Read Son are now betrothed. They were walking around Philadeedelphia holding hands and it's just wicked cute.
In other Philadeedelphia-related news, I was not surprised to learn that it costs $2 to visit Ben Franklin's grave. Also, not surprisingly WHATSOEVER, I learned that shooting in broad daylight with the aperture WIDE FREAKING OPEN is a mistake. I'm talking about shooting with a camera, too, for the record. And OF COURSE I learned this lesson after we had gotten back on the train to return to the Well-Read Household, and I saw that all of my pictures of Ben Franklin's grave were so overexposed that I could barely tell what they were. I took them to show to The Mister, because he likes Ben Franklin. Sorry.
I brought bread and pickles and jams to the Well-Reads, and for the other bloggers who came to partay on Sunday. I gave some to HER and HER and HER and HER. But? No bread for Bossy. She didn't come to the party. The Mister was disappointed I didn't get to meet Bossy.
And as disappointing as it is to be ignored by Bossy, even worse?
Please sit down. Really.
We lost Beloved Blanket. Wee Man's Beloved Belovey is gone. There is no sign of that thing. We're still in shock.
Condolences can be emailed to: thedaytontime (at) gmail (dot) com, Dear Wee Man in the subject line.
Thanks for your support.
Oh, dear. We once had one afternoon with the prospect of no Purple Pony, and Lord love a duck, I thought the boy would rip his own head off.
ReplyDeleteBossy's loss.
My daughter left her little blue ball in the bathroom at Speedway this afternoon.
ReplyDeleteAnd . . . that's all I got . . .
Let the little lad know that I cleaned my shotgun last night. Just kidding, betrothing the Short People is a favorite pass time of ours.
ReplyDeleteAnd as for dearly departed Beloved. I almost cried last night.
The laundry's clean but not folded, the bunk beds are shorter, the crib is moved, the place is still a mess. Come home soon. I miss you.
Oh No! The loss of the blankie is devasting. I hope you can find a replacement.
ReplyDelete"Chinese Fire Drills"? Oh, be still my heart! I think I love you!
ReplyDelete(In a strictly platonic, nonthreating sort of way, so Mister, please don't hit me!)
I haven't heard the phrase Chinese fire drill since my misspent youth, practicing with my friends at stoplights...ahhh, youth...
Oh how delicious that bread is!!
ReplyDeleteDear Wee Man,
ReplyDeleteI hear that Elliot has a blankey that he may be willing to share. I know it's not the same, but there's lots of love stored in it.
Love and kisses,
Auntie Ree
always have blankie back ups. i watched a friend learn that lesson ... and i have always had at least two of all favorites.
ReplyDeleteand if i come to visit can i get me some pickles too??
Oh, I am so sorry about the blanket. I can tell you if my Lil lost her lamby, life would be miserable. My condolences.
ReplyDeleteAlso, it was fan-friggin-tastic to meet you. And you came on a long journey bearing delicious bread and jam and pickles, and as if I needed another reason to fall deeper in love. So sorry I didn't make it into the city with you and WRH. Hope to see you again in person in August.
Because I have been in summer computer shut down mode, I have been utterly remiss in getting over here to tell you YOUR BREAD ROCKS. It was inhaled here by everyone. My husband started it by saying, three slices later, "I'm not sure it's a breakfast bread...more of a dinner bread. We'll have more tonight." But that would have meant my kids not snarfing it at lunch.
ReplyDeleteOh, and me. Because we are a bread kind of people.
It was so fun meeting you. I hope you come back soon! And thanks again for the bread. I'm in awe.
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ReplyDelete