Continue reading »]]> Hey, wahoo,

Oh my sweet little girl. I don’t really know where to begin. The last month has been…tricky. Right now you are four, nearing five, and there isn’t really a good way to describe this age. In some ways it seems like you are ready to rocket up and away from us, but then in the next moment you are clinging and very needy. It is interesting to see how important we are to you as you attempt to take these first real steps towards true independence. We are here for you, kid, even during those times when we sort of want to rip our hair out.

I can remember being little and sitting on my mama’s lap. I can also remember when she started to say that I was getting too big to sit on her lap. It’s bittersweet for me. I have found myself telling you that you are getting too big for me to carry you, and I often think about how it must feel to detach in this way. (I’m premenstrual. It makes me pensive and emotional.) Anyway, I suppose all of this is normal, but it’s just a little tough at times. I love you. Let’s move on.

I think in the last post I told you that you had a makeup lesson, which you loved. Well, the pictures were on your dad’s phone, and I only recently got them off. So with no further ado, pictures.

One sunny day a few weeks ago you, Violet, Beckett, Kim and I went to Kenneth Hahn park to feed the ducks. Little did we know that both the ducks and pigeons were going to be aggressive in their desire to eat. At one point you were able to pat a duck on the head, which was a little stunning. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen since tame birds!

Violet was a tiny bit unsure about the duck’s proximity.

I guess we couldn’t find your bathing suit on this fine day. Fortunately you are still at the age where panties are cute and make a fine substitute!

Strike a pose, wahoo.

He’s very comfortable in his canininity.

Here you are being the student of the day at pre-kindergarten; this happens once a month and coincides with the day that I am the super parent helper. You brought your digital camera to share with the class. Just for fun you took a bunch of pictures of them while you spoke. Funny.

I like this picture.

Um, this is you wearing your nightgown and about a hundred other things, dancing to Don’s Donuts. Yes, I’d say we’ve acclimated.

You, Leilani Rain, Kordelia and Mr. Sensitive having a movie night.

Bedtime. Nice to see that everyone is snuggled in tight.

We are making a quilt together for you. At this age you want to help with everything, but four year old help oftentimes sets us back. Your contribution to this project has been to cut scraps while I cut the actual pieces for the quilt. Oh, and you get to use the big sewing scissors if I am with you.

Duck’s role in our project? Absolutely nothing.

I like that you have your apron on. Homemaker-chic!

If we ever finish this project, this is what the top will look like. I’m really not certain that we will ever finish it though. I thought we were close last night, but wound up having to undo everything. Patience–if you’ve got any of my genetics, this will likely not be one of your strong suits.

Last weekend we had a yard sale to raise money for the MS Society. It was ridiculous. I put a huge amount of work into organizing clothes into nicer/less nice, gave a lot of thought as to what time to begin and end, and made sure everything was clean and folded nicely. When I showed up at Kim and Adam’s house to set up at 6:50 am, I thought I had a couple of hours to prepare, awhile to ease into the day. Well, the first person drove by at 6:55 am, and from 7-9 I was slammed. No one paid attention to the prices, I gave clothes away at a near robber’s fee for the first hour because I was overwhelmed and I spent the entire day refolding clothes that people would just throw on the ground. Oh yeah, lest we forget the very persistent but sweet little grandmother who wanted $20 worth of stuff for $6 because she was buying for a young single mother? Umm, did I mention this is a fundraiser for MULTIPLE SCLEROSIS? Well, she got $20 worth of stuff for $8. What can I say? I’m a sucker for a good story.

Was it worth it? Abso-freakin-lutely. I loved it. We made $365.00 for the MS Society, which was thrilling and made the whole thing worth it. In addition to the money made though, the Burkert family felt a real sense of community by the people that both donated to and attended the yard sale. Your pre-k teachers both came, friends from the Y came, our neighbors came and many, many people donated to help make it a success. Terrance tried to come out and bring Flynn, but I gave him the wrong address and he wound up in South Central LA. Umm, oops?

You had a lemonade stand and donated all your proceeds to MS. I think you made $3.00 once we subtracted the price of the lemonade mix, but then a very generous purchaser sent you $20 in the mail and you made you $23! I wish we had more pictures, but the simple fact of the matter is that I was slammed and you and your dad were hoppin’ once you arrived.

The signs we put out.

“MS Fundraiser, 4 year old style!”

Me trying to apologize to Terrance after realizing where my errors led him. Poor guys ran into a Supermercado to get some water for Flynn, then realized it was a Hispanic Costco. This flustered dad, who generally does not feed his daughter juice, left the store with 18 packets of Kool-Aid and three loose oranges, which the cashier fussed at him for trying to buy: “They don’t come loose!”

Anyway, moving right along, today we had a Valentine’s Day cookie decorating party for you and a few friends. You created the guess list, we wrote out some invites and then we shopped together for all the decorations. At 2:00 your friends arrived: Leilani Rain, Kordelia, Violet and Natalia. It was a great little to do, quite simple really. I made about five dozen cookies, made three different colored frostings, then set out a variety of decorations. We had a little music going, a little laughter and high creativity in the house!

Violet was VERY studious about her cookie decorating. She heaped toppings on her cookies and was thoughtful in her frosting application. She made about six cookies, then went to play. She was the only one of the group who made her cookies, then never returned to the table to make more. Focus–clearly not a problem for her.

I adore this picture. This captures the spirit of the fun that was had during your party.

We are so lucky to have these two girls in our lives. What great friends.

Yes, wahoo, you were munching steadily along as you created. Makes sense to me!

It’s 11 o’clock at night and I am sleepy now. Goodnight.

Continue reading »]]> Recently you’ve been telling me that you are allergic to walking. Of course, you have also been telling me that I am allergic to peanut butter, even though I eat it on toast almost every single morning.

Yesterday we were driving home from the fabric store and I had NPR on. During a story about the Republican primary I heard you pipe up from the back seat: “Mitt and Newt?!” Yes, wahoo, our thoughts exactly.

Today I heard that during your friend’s show and tell at school you suddenly shouted out, “Morgan, you have two heads when I do this,” then pulled the corner of your eye toward your ear. Totally marvelous.

Two nights ago I was cooking dinner when the smoke alarm started going off. I looked over at you and found you underneath the kitchen table, complete with your hands over your head. Nice to know that you are paying attention to the fire/tornado drills at school.

Tonight I went out with Kim and Carol for girls’ night. You and your dad had a date. The two of you had pizza and chocolate chip cookies sitting on the ground on our tiny little patio. You ate by candlelight. When I got home, there was your bathroom stool with four little tea lights sitting on top. Tender.

The other night we put you to bed. About an hour later you shouted out “3+3=6!” Well done, girl. Now go to sleep!

You are telling everyone that your favorite food right now is lettuce. This morning you had blueberries, cereal with no milk and lettuce for breakfast. Absolutely tremendous, my lovely, funny girl.

You are the best. I cannot imagine a funnier, lovelier little girl.

Continue reading »]]> Apparently you have twins. There names are Valerie and Lolita, unless their names are Bruno and Jemima.

You are devoted to your baby, the one who does not actually exist but is the standard by which all others are judged. Tonight you told us that your baby calls Mr. Burkert her “husband”. At any time your baby may be younger than you, older than either one of your parents, in school, firmly entrenched in the work world, in time-out for 80 minutes because she has said “the word I can’t say” or napping. You love her and your dad and I are very amused by her.

Today I gave you your first lesson in applying makeup. The other day you gave yourself your first pedicure. You love being a girl.

This afternoon you, your dad and I were playing Telephone for the very first time. After I came up with a few silly phrases, you took a turn. Here’s what you came up with: “Harry beary loves his berries,” followed by “Tony bony loves his bonies.” That’s it, no more games for you.

We put you to sleep around 8. You go to sleep around 10. We always have you clean your room before bedtime. Your room is oftentimes a spectacle of nighttime play by morning. In spite of your late night shenanigans, you seem fairly well-rested.

Busy evening apparently.

You came out around 9:45 one night to give me this note; apparently it couldn’t wait until morning.

You have gotten past your overwhelming fear of the ocean, and are making small forays into the water. It helps that you have friends who love the beach. In this way, peer pressure works. There is a real upside to peer pressure at this age, but we try not to abuse it because we are freaked out by the very real downside of peer pressure that lurks around the corner.

You, Lalani Rain and Kordelia. It was Kordelia’s fifth birthday and she had never been to the beach–can you even imagine? You all had a blast!

I’m pretty sure that shovel was eaten by the ocean.

When we were at the beach I asked all three of you if you needed to go to the bathroom and you all promised me you were good. As soon as you hit the water, your bladder changed it’s mind. Since you were standing in the ocean with only a dress on, I told you to just let ‘er rip into the water like everyone else does. I’m sure I didn’t mean for you to pull your dress up to your shoulders, stand just on the edge of the water line and whiz for all the world to see. Clearly we have some work to do on incognito tinkling, wahoo.

Your dad got a Ferrari for Christmas. Here are all of the parts laid out on the kitchen table:

I love how your dad always follows the directions. Here you two are washing all of the car parts before setting out on the assembly:

You and Duck having tea. He loved this game.

You, Natalia and Maddy playing dress up. Girls are just so fun.

Much love to you, wahoo-girl.

Continue reading »]]> Wahoo,

You’ve been having a pretty profound love affair for the better part of your entire life, and it seems that the two of you are in the beginning stages of parting ways. Yes, wahoo, you and Ringo appear to be making steps towards breaking up. It is really sad to watch. Your dad and I are a little heartbroken.

Ok, that was a lie. Your dad is surviving; I am a little heartbroken.

The other night your dad and I had put you to bed, then gone through the nightly shenanigans of putting you to bed about three more times after you came out for one ridiculous reason after the next. The last time you came out you walked out, put Ringo in my lap, told us you didn’t think you loved Ringo anymore and just started whimpering. Your dad and I looked at one another in confusion, listened as you talked about being sad that Ringo didn’t look the same anymore, then told you to go back to bed. Yeah, it wasn’t our most sensitive moment, but it was 10:00 and you should have been asleep a long time ago. After a few minutes we heard you crying in bed. Initially we thought you were faking it, but after another moment or two I decided to go check on you. When I found you, your face was completely soaked from tears. What?!

I snuggled up with you and listened as you talked about how much you love Ringo, but she doesn’t look the same as she used to and you don’t love the way she looks now. When I told you that Ringo would never look the way she used to, you just cried and cried and cried. I was so stunned–I guess I didn’t see this conversation coming, nor did I really predict the emotion that would accompany it. We turned on the light, I sat you in my lap and the two of us looked over Ringo, trying our level best to give a complete accounting of all her battle scars:

* green neck from where you painted yourself green while visiting aunts Tracy and Kat, and cousin Brandon in Oklahoma;
* ears that don’t stand erect anymore because you rub their interiors while you are falling asleep;
* no stuffing in her neck because you sleep with her propped under your neck, the two of your faces side by side;
* scratched eyeballs from where she has likely been dragged along sidewalks;
* rose-colored paint from she participated in your attempts to paint your nails while in the car, also done on our road trip to Oklahoma;
* pink lips from where you gave her a makeover with the makeup beautiful neighbor/friend Tanya gave you.

Yep, she’ll never, ever look quite as perky as she did when we brought her home from Target when you were about one years old. However, every one of these beauty marks is so full of love, a testimony to a steadfast friendship.

You decided that night to put Ringo in the stuffed animal basket, saying that while you still love her, you didn’t want to sleep with her anymore. It was a brave decision and I was proud of you for making it. When I went to check on you before I went to sleep, there Ringo lay, nestled amongst the non-bed worthy stuffed friends. I confess, I kind of wanted to sleep with her myself, but then my non-emotional sensibilities took hold and I left her there.

When I awoke the next morning, imagine my surprise to find you on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket watching wake-up television. And who peeked out from under your neck, her face right next to yours? Good morning, Ringo. So happy to see you.

Yes, I think you are growing up to the point that you may not need Ringo anymore. You continue to impress me, wahoo. I couldn’t be more proud of you. And, for the record, Ringo will never be far away, probably never farther than my closet, should you need her.

Continue reading »]]> Wahoo,

Recently you have been pretty excited about the possibility of having a sleepover. Now, I am not certain at what age most kids start having sleepovers, but four seems mighty early to me. Nonetheless, since you are in a long holiday break, your dad is off work this week and two of your best friends live next door, we decided this was as good a time as any to try an overnighter. We sent an invitation to Lalani Rain and Kordelia and received this response from the girls’ dad: “God speed. Blanca and I are are booking a trip to Vegas!” Hahaha!

Last night at 5:30, the girls came over. First item on the sleepover agenda was swimming at the Y. Wow, but you all had so much fun. I’m not sure that Lalani Rain and Kordelia get to go swimming that often, which might explain why Lalani Rain kept saying, “I think we should do this again soon!” The three of you splashed, shrieked, dunked and laughed; your dad and I tried to keep Kordelia alive, as she kept venturing into the deeper end then floundering around. It sounds scarier than it was–she seemed to be enjoying herself, as long as there was someone to save her.

We left the pool around 7, came back home and the three of you changed into your pajamas; Lalani Rain and Kordelia had new pajama pants that said “Sleepover Party!” Fun! While your dad and I cooked a pizza, you guys watched a little bit of Lady and the Tramp. We paused the movie for a dinner break, then I made you all some popcorn and you watched a little more of the movie. I don’t know why exactly but it was around this time that Kordelia got kind of homesick and cried to go home. Her brother, Bubba, came over to bring their toothbrushes and told her that she could come home at any time (they only live ten steps away), after which she perkied up again and decided to stay. We turned the movie off and you all decided to play one of the games you got for Christmas, “I Can Do That!” It’s hard to take a picture that captures how much fun you all had trying to complete all the challenges you were given–you’ll just have to take my word for it that you all had a really good time.

I love Lalani Rain’s smile in the background.

Your dad, good at so many things, failed in his mission to skip around the trick-a-stick with a little man tucked between his legs. Actually, I was the only person to succeed at this challenge! GO MOMMA!

Having hot cocoa and cookies before it’s time to brush teeth.

By this time it was about 8:30, so your dad and I asked the three of you to brush your teeth and get ready for bed. We would read some stories together and then it would be lights out. Apparently you three turkeys thought that having a pillow fight sounded much better, so with minty fresh breath and sparkling teeth you beat one another senseless with pillows. Fun!

After we read some stories, you all settled in to go to sleep. 9:00–not too shabby, parents! We had some struggles over getting the lighting just right–Lalani Rain wanted the closet light on and the door wide open, while you and Kordelia preferred a darker room–then had a few rounds of needing water, but mostly it was easy to get you all tucked in. As we left the room for what we thought was the night, I heard someone said, “You want to tell ghost stories?” I wish I had hung around to hear what sorts of spooky tales you crafted, but I moved myself along.

Let the shenanigans begin!

The next two hours went like this: 20 minutes of laughter and mischievousness followed by me saying, “Goodnight girls. It’s time to settle down now.” “Okay! (giggle, giggle, giggle!)” 20 more minutes of up to no good and laughter, then another reprimand from me, which was again completely ignored. I was totally fine to let you play until about 11 pm, at which point I decided it really was bedtime and came into the room to get everyone settled. At this point Lalani Rain was asleep on your bed, and you and Kordelia–little imps–were playing around her. I got Kordelia tucked in next to her sister, and you wound up on the air mattress. Goodnights were said, the closet light was turned off and I went out to shut the house down.

Five minutes later: “Sniff. (pause) Sniff. (pause) Boohoo!”

So I escorted your friends back to their house at 11, where a smiling mama welcomed them home. When I arrived back at our house, you were crying, whether from sadness or sheer exhaustion one may never know. You finally fell asleep around 11:30, then woke up at 5 am and came into our bed because you were scared. Neither Burkert girl slept particularly well, which is why today you are playing at Natalia and Maddy’s house and I’m still in comfy pants at 12:30 pm.

So, was the sleepover a success? Well, this morning I heard you declare with gusto, “That was the BEST sleepover ever!” Since it’s the only one you’ve ever attended, I’m glad you thought so, wahoo.

Continue reading »]]> Wahoo,

Christmas was very different for us this year because it was just the three of us for the big day. The deal we’ve struck for most of the holidays has been Thanksgiving with the Lobrano/Curtis clan, Christmas with the Balph clan. Due to being on the other side of the country with no cash for travel, this year it was B3 on their own. Casting all nervousness that we would somehow screw it up aside, your dad and I gave it our all to ensure a magical holiday for you. We baked cookies and remembered to save one for Santa, we helped you write out your letter to put with said cookie, and we read The Grinch Who Stole Christmas at bedtime. Once we were certain you were asleep, we unleashed our inner-elves! We brought out the presents we’d been hiding in my closet, we added trinkets to your stocking, ate the cookie we had helped you set out earlier, then set up the BRIO train tracks that had once been your dads and are now yours. It was fun for us to check and double check to make certain that you would not be disappointed with this, your fifth Christmas.

At 8:30 in the morning you came streaking into our room and said, “Daddy! Something’s different!” From there it was on. You opened presents until you grew bored. It was a strange phenomenon to urge you to open another present when quite clearly you were sort of over unwrapping things. Your dad and I talked about the possibility of maybe holding some gifts back for your birthday if there are as many as this year. Having said that, you got wonderful gifts: puzzles, bead sets, a new comforter set, art supplies, teddy bears, books, paper dolls, movies, an ice cream maker… WOW! Good heavens, child! I hope you don’t come roaming around talking about bored any time soon.

After opening presents we went over to Virginia, Shane and Sophia’s house for a wonderful Christmas lunch. Virginia had outdone herself in the kitchen! She had a ham, a turkey, a mushroom tart, mashed potatoes, green beans, a salad, corn casserole, a variety of cheeses, etc. We brought cranberries, macaroni and cheese and holiday breads, and another friend of hers brought desserts. It was a very relaxing, delicious way to spend a Christmas afternoon. It is so nice to have good friends.

By 6:00 your dad and I were completely worn out. I was nearly comatose on the couch, which is why you, at the tender age of four, have seen the movie “Elf”. You seemed to enjoy it. You were asleep by 8:00, either sugar plum fairies or a giant syrup-over-spaghetti eating Will Ferrell dancing in your head.

There aren’t many pictures, but we managed a few. The video at the end is tender and precious. I love that you are writing to Santa on Christmas Eve, even though your dad and I don’t really think you believe in him. You are a good sport. Goodnight, my sweetest girl.

Yes, that’s our Christmas tree on the treadmill. When there’s limited space, there are only so many options. We don’t think the tree looks overly thin though, so that’s good.

Cool breeze.

It’s a good thing hair-do’s aren’t a part of the naughty/nice deal.

And now, the video:

Continue reading »]]> Wahoo,

Well, it is 6:15 pm and you and your dad have just gone out for frozen yogurt. I am in bed, sick yet again, hoping against all that is holy and good that you will think to bring frozen yogurt home for me. (Okay, not really. As of this moment it is 5:26 on Wednesday, December 28th. Apparently I started this post a while ago and am only now finishing.)

Anyway, we sent your grandpa packin’ today, which brings to an end a streak of tremendous good fortune in the realm of visiting grandparents. Last Friday evening we picked up NeeNee and Poppy, who came to celebrate a mini-Christmas with us, and then lo and behold, we got word that grandpa would be arriving Saturday afternoon! Grandpa is able to travel for next to nothing as a passenger on military flights that are not full, and while the price is right, the scheduling can be a bit wonky. He spent two nights in Washington State awaiting word as to wether there would be a flight to LA, and eventually wound up flying here on a hopper flight that was relatively cheap. Kind of a strange way to get around, but we were so happy to have him here.

I will do my best to recount all of the tremendous fun that we had during our week of visits, but I’m quite certain I’ll forget some details. To begin, I wanted to make sure that we had a lot of food on hand to feed our esteemed guests, so I spent Friday evening cooking. I love the way we have a kitchen that looks out into the living room. It was wonderful to be able to be a part of the conversation with N and P, but still be able to be tooling around, getting stuff done. I made a butternut squash soup, which turned out really nicely, and a new potato/kielbasa soup, which, while entirely different, was also yummy. I figured your dad and grandpa could enjoy the heavier soup, while the more delicate among us would go for the squash soup; I was correct on both counts. It is nice to cook for those you love.

Saturday morning N and P came to the Y with us so that they could see your swim lesson. And might I say, little girl baby of mine, YOU FINALLY PASSED SWIM LESSONS!!!!!!! I had no idea that last Saturday was going to be evaluation day. I watched with baited breath anyway as your teacher encouraged you to catch a colored ring underwater and you shook your head, insisting you would not be doing that today. She turned her head briefly and you made a quick get-a-way, dog paddling for your life towards the safety of the wall, but she was too quick for you and you were very quickly faced with having to catch that little ring. Eventually she told you that you could just catch it without going underwater, and I guess you decided this was your best bet for an easy out: she dropped the ring, you caught it without moving anything but your arm, and you were done! Imagine my shock when she handed you a purple paper and you had a check+ for every skill with a little note that said you could now move from pike to eel!! MY GIRL! I could not have been more proud. Of course, I’m proud of you all the time. When you caught the ring while barely moving a muscle I shouted out praise across the pool! Oh wahoo, it’s so easy to overdo it when one is a parent. I apologize for my future embarrassing actions. On the plus side for you, your father is much more subdued.

After class, you and Natalia–also an eel swimmer!–came back to our house and immediately got in the shower together. I was cooking, but had a great time listening to the two of you playing and splashing about. After the shower, NeeNee helped the two of you get dressed for Violet’s birthday party. When you emerged from your bedroom, you were dressed as Cinderella (the only princess dress you own) and Natalia was dressed as the Little Mermaid. Well, given that the theme of the party was Pirate Princess–how cool is that?–I thought both outfits were highly appropriate.

Pre-party

The party was spectacular. Kim and Adam did a tremendous job organizing. When we arrived they had a bunch of pizzas, cups of fruits and vegetables, drinks, an ice cream cake, a gigantic bouncer in the back yard, pirate-themed art hand drawn on the garage, and treasure maps that lead to goody bags containing eye patches. WHAT?! Who wins the award for most well thought out child’s party?! Good night alive. You had a blast. You bounced with gusto, beat up on a pinata, searched for your treasure, ate, ran around and generally had a great time. It’s really nice to have such good friends here.

Vi’s cake

Violet’s very impressive mom. She throws a mean party.

The motley party crew.

After the party, we made our way to the airport to pick up GRANDPA! Big excitement for this girl to see her daddy! Up to this visit it was almost one year exactly since I’d last seen either of my parents. This is simply unprecedented for me to go so long without seeing them, so I was terribly excited. Of course I was also a tad sad that granny wasn’t along for the journey, but we get her in March and will have to do our very best to be patient. But GRANDPA! We picked him up at the airport and brought him back to our house. I think he thought our neighborhood was sort of the barrio, but he seemed to like our digs. We didn’t do much the first day he was here–just sort of lounged and caught up. It was very fun to have grandpa here with N and P. You were ecstatic to have three out of four of your grandparents around to play with you. Grandpa doesn’t really go in much for play, but he loves to tease. He leaned over one day and told you, “Guess what? Duck just whispered in my ear. He said, ‘I don’t like Kate.’” This became a running joke between the two of you. By the time grandpa left, Duck didn’t much like anyone. Anyway, we had two homemade soups for dinner, and sugar cookies for dessert, then we pretty much all headed off to bed.

Sweetest!

Is this the universal grand-dad look?

The next morning I was cooking, N and P were on a walk, your dad was working and you and your grandpa were hanging out in the living room together. The two of you were chilling out together, which was terribly sweet. Your grandpa said, “Kate, would you like for me to teach you one of my favorite songs?” Aww, grandpa! I was scooting around in the kitchen thinking, “My sweet daddy!” Of course, this was before I heard him crooning out Joan Jett’s “I hate myself for loving you,” with you humming along. WHAT?! Well, the man never has had any sense at all. (As I write this, you are having a tantrum. Your dad and I just sent you to your room, and we are now listening to you singing in your whiniest voice “I hate myself for loving you”. I am not planning on forgiving your grandpa for this any time soon.)

Later in the afternoon we went over to our friend Claire’s house. She invited us to go watch the Venice boat parade with her, and to come over pre-race for drinks and snacks. We went over around 4 and you and Morgan played for a bit. The two of you are very good friends and play quite nicely together. Claire showed us around her apartment complex, and your dad and I decided that we will be relocating next year. She doesn’t pay much more than we do, and the amenities–oh my. The real bonus though is that they are right in the marina, so they overlook sailboats. SOLD!

Around 5:30 we walked into Venice for the boat parade. It was quite a bit of fun. All the homeowners decorate their small boats for the holidays and then join a parade on the canals. Some of the boats were rather benign in their decorations, but others were quite something. One featured an older (50′s maybe) man in a white unitard with a red ribbon around his waist shaking his stuff to Christmas tunes. Let’s all look for grandpa to rock that look next Halloween–may God help us all. Other favorites were the Hannukah boat, the canoe that came complete with a campfire for roasting marshmallows and the paddle surfer and his dog. It was a lot of fun and had a very small town feel, which was neat. I can remember growing up in Atlanta, our neighborhood had a Herby Curby parade, where residents decorated their trash bins. It was neat to capture that feeling again. I hope you will find small town moments growing up in sprawling LA.

On the way to the parade. At one point grandpa was holding both your and Morgan’s hands.

Canal, just before the parade. Pretty.

Party on the water.

Hannukah boat, complete with a menorah and a dreidel!

After we got back from the boat races we opened some presents. It was strange to open presents a couple of weeks before Christmas, but since we were all together we just went ahead and took the opportunity. Fun!

Monday was a bit of a lazy day–it might have been a bit rainy. You and NeeNee snuggled up and watched the new Beatrix Potter movies she and Poppy gave you for Christmas, which both of you loved. Monday night N and P took all of us out for dinner at a restaurant called The Curious Palette. It was delicious, delicious, yummy! You met a little friend there named Talia. The two of you drew pictures together, then compared all the things you either were learning or new how to do. The conversation went something like this:

“I know how to snap. Do you know how to snap?” “I do know how to snap!”
“I know how to buckle my shoes. Do you know how to buckle your shoes?” “I do not know how to buckle my shoes. Mom! She knows how to buckle her shoes!”
“I know how to whistle. Do you know how to whistle?” You get the picture. It was really very lovely. My girl, growing up.

Tuesday was NeeNee and Poppy’s day to fly back home, so much of the morning was dedicated to helping them get ready to go. When we were due to leave, you were a mess. I don’t know what brought the tantrum on, but it was in full force by the time we needed to be in the car. As a result, you did not accompany N and P to the airport, but instead stayed in your room while grandpa read the paper in the living room. It was sad to drop N and P at the airport–we had such an easy, nice trip and they are both so wonderful. Sniff.

Given that grandpa was traveling on military flights, we weren’t ever quite sure when he was going to be leaving. Some days he thought he’d be taking off the next morning, other times he said we’d probably be cursing the military for his length of stay. As it happened, he stayed just over a week, which was about perfect. One day we dropped you off at school and drove into Beverly Hills to see the sights. It was a little stunning, amazing and nauseating to see the money dripping off every detail in Beverly Hills. The next day we took you to school, then drove through Pacific Palisades, another big money area. Having seen some of the homes in Pacific Palisades, I was a little more inclined to think that we were indeed returning to our beloved barrio.

On Friday you didn’t have school, so you, grandpa and I drove to Anaheim and went to Knott’s Berry Farm. We had talked about going to the zoo originally. The conversation went something like this: “We have a lot of zoos in California.” “You have a lot of Jews in California?!” Good grief. Returning to Knott’s Berry Farm, originally the price was going to be about $60.00 per person, which we weren’t going to do; however, the Marine Corp was sponsoring a Toys for Tots event, so we bought three toys for $20 a piece and all got a free ticket. SCORE! We had such a good time! We all rode a bunch of rides–including a ferris ride, which I hated every moment of–and saw Snoopy on Ice, which was really fun. We stayed in the park until about 5, then drove back home. We got a pizza for dinner, then pretty much crashed as we had to get up early the next morning to take grandpa to San Diego for his departing flight.

Riding the Huff n’ Puff

Preparing to ride Woodstock’s Airmail.

WHEE!

Hey, you’re getting better at having your picture taken with characters.

Driving your semi. Grandpa and I were up top, honking for all we were worth!

You and grandpa watching a show.

On the ferris wheel. I’m surprised this shot’s not blurry given my certainty that my hands were shaking.

Ahhh, such a fun day!

Or, maybe we were just driving to San Diego because it’s so pretty! It certainly wasn’t to get grandpa on an airplane, because the military cancelled the flight at the absolute last minute. This is the big hazard of military travel: they are prone to canceling flights without notice, and retirees get last place in the priority line, so one never knows if there will be room on any listed flight. When grandpa was trying to get to Los Angeles he wound up flying from South Carolina to Washington State, where he spent two nights seeing if there was a flight to LA. He eventually took Frontier to LA, which took him from WA to Denver to LA. I have my doubts as to the efficiency or practicality of military travel for in-state travels.

Anyway, we went to the San Diego zoo to see how much tickets were, but they are crazy expensive, so we just rode the carousel in the park by the zoo. Then it was off to Rubio’s for lunch, where we met some of grandpa’s friends from high school. After lunch we headed back for home. Well, it was a nice day trip at least.

Grandpa stayed a couple more days, leaving Tuesday morning. We took him to see Arthur Christmas, which he loved and you and I thought was just okay. At one point on our way to the movie, you wanted to push a button in an elevator and he pushed it instead. I don’t know that he even really realized you wanted to push it, although you had your finger out, ready to go. Later that night, as we were all sitting around the dining room table, you informed me that grandpa had hurt your feelings. He appeared genuinely concerned about this, so we took the opportunity to talk it out. You told him that he had hurt your feelings because you wanted to push the button in the elevator. He said he did not mean to hurt your feelings and apologized, which seemed okay by you. He then informed you that you had hurt his feelings when you didn’t want to hold his hand while walking. You apologized to him, but he said that wasn’t enough. He told you that if you would give him a hug and a kiss, all would be well, which you promptly did. Look at you two problem solvers!

Here are random pictures of your visit with your grandpa:

Grandpa took us to lunch one early afternoon. Here he is with his unexpectedly huge beer and arugula pizza at 11:30 am. He’s so LA.

Learning about animals of the world together.

So that pretty much captures the visits with the grandparents. So, so fun! The only thing I’ve left out, intentionally saving it for last, is your grandpa’s special relationship with Duck. My lord but these two soul-mates. They sat on our couch by the hour, Duck with his head on grandpa’s lap, grandpa stroking his head. Duck hasn’t really been the same since grandpa left, but he’s trying to soldier on.

This picture captures the love/love relationship between these two sensitive dudes.

The three of you watching cartoons. It’s no mistake that you aren’t really visible; the lovebirds were trying to crowd you out.

Wow, I feel like I’ve seen this before.

Taken in the morning.

Taken later that afternoon. Simply astonishing.

Yeah, he’s never known comfort.

Okay, this has officially become an homage to Duck, aka Captain Fearless, aka Mister Sensitive. Sorry grandpa, you can’t have him!

Continue reading »]]> Wahoo,

It’s hard to say what part of your life I’ve enjoyed the most because every stage has been exceptional; however, I am tempted to declare the late-four stage the all-time greatest. There’s no profound reason behind this except that you are just really fun right now–super creative, wicked funny, able to engage in intelligent conversation, spirited but able to have some modicum of control over your emotions, up for anything… I could go on and on. You are just a true joy to be around.

This morning you were singing and dancing to “Brick House,” while jamming along on your kazoo. It was so innocent and chipper, which made it all the more delightful. And, this evening your dad and I were trying to get you to leave the kitchen and clean up your room, which we’ve asked to do every night since you were approximately two years old. We were talking about how you have to do things you don’t want to do in part so that you are able to do the things you want to do. We are planning on going to Sea World tomorrow, so we were trying to frame this conversation in terms of real events. We said, “What do you want to do?” You reply, “I want to go to Sea World.” Next question: “So what do you need to do tonight to make sure that happens?” You: “Get tickets.”

Yep, now is just a really funny time.

Continue reading »]]> Dearest wahoo,

We are having such an amazing time here in sunny SoCal that I suppose the downside had to hit eventually. As it happens, the downside of living on the west coast is that it makes traveling home for holidays really difficult. Plane fares are expensive most of the time, but they are particularly brutal during the holidays, and all the more so during an economic catastrophe. I heard yesterday that all plane fares are up about 20% right now. So, while granny and grandpa joined aunts Kat and Tracy, uncle Wilson and Brandon in Oklahoma, and NeeNee and Poppy had a wonderful Thanksgiving together, you, your dad and I joined our friends Virginia, Shane and Sophia on a non-traditional camping excursion. It was weird not to be with our peeps, but we still had fun and found ourselves grateful for a lot of things.

When we realized that we weren’t going to be going home for the holidays, we spoke with Virginia and Shane about what their plans for Thanksgiving were. Within a few minutes we had decided to plan a camping trip and just go for an entirely different holiday experience. We decided that we would take all the traditional Thanksgiving food and do our best to do recreate the carbo-loading experience that is Thanksgiving. Virginia volunteered to make the turkey and I offered to do all the sides. For several days before our trip commenced, I could be found in the kitchen, doing my best to create masterful sides. I’ll talk more about the food as we come to the actual meal.

We left Wednesday around 3:30 pm. I had been pretty relaxed about the entire experience until Wednesday morning, at which point I started to question my sanity. Who in the world offers to prepare a crap ton of food in ADDITION to getting a bunch of camping equipment together? That’s just a recipe for crazy-making. And, as always seems to be the way, the faster I needed to be moving, the slower and more aggravating you were determined to be. Virginia and Shane were having a similar experience at their place. Virginia said she was channeling her inner-Clark Grizzwald: “We are GOING to have a good time” as one thing after the next goes wrong. Anyway, thank God for your school–I was able to have at least a couple of hours to get the last few things done and regain my composure.

So, by the time we all came together and got in the car to leave, everything was in it’s right and proper place and I felt certain that our trip was going to be smooth sailing. We slowly made our way through Venice and Santa Monica, then got on the PCH. For a highway, the PCH was an inch at a time. I was really tired from racing around all morning, so I was trying to close my eyes for a few minutes, when all of the sudden your happy singing turned into screams. “MOMMA!” Leave it to Mr. Sensitive Stomach to throw up all over the backseat–all over our little camping pillow, one of our blankets, and just a little extra for your feet. What a guy… So there we were, standing across from the beautiful ocean, watching as the fanciest of fancy cars drove by us, everyone rubbernecking to see why we had pulled over. Suddenly my hope of a beautiful trip faded… Thank the good Lord above I had thought to get some baby wipes, so at least we were able to make quick work of the clean up and we were off again.

We made it to Malibu Creek State Park just before complete darkness descended, which was nice.

View from the campground. Malibu Creek State Park is where M*A*S*H was filmed, incidentally.

We got the tent set up and all of our things put away, then decided we would break out some macaroni and cheese and hot dogs for dinner. Now, normally your dad loves my homemade macaroni and cheese, but as it was heated up over the campfire, this time he opted not to eat it, saying he didn’t like the smokey flavor. I found myself hoping he didn’t starve during our trip, as the odds were pretty good that smoke was going to be the flavor of the weekend. So, everyone but your dad enjoyed some dinner and we all got ready for the best part of camping, when the horrific, terrifying discovery was made:

Virginia forgot the marshmallows.

I don’t even think I need to speak to the egregiousness of this error, as anyone who has ever camped will understand the magnitude of this mistake. Suffice to say, we were all a little mopey as we headed off to bed around eight o’clock. The weather was in the 50′s during the day and maybe mid-40′s in the night. It was chilly, but not unbearable. We all have pretty warm bags, so I think we all managed to rest well enough. At some point your dad and I both got up to go to the bathroom, and when we got back in the tent you woke up for a few moments. Apparently you heard an owl in the night, which neither of us heard. When we were about to drift off sleep, we all heard, “hoot, hoot,” followed immediately by a little voice saying, “I told you.” Yes, well.

Sophia and Virginia woke up around 6:30, which delighted you to no end, although you were less thrilled to learned that neither one of your parents was prepared to interact with you until at least 7 o’clock. I finally got up and we made our slow entrance into the world. Fortunately for us, Virginia had somehow managed to get her kid up and dressed, feed her dog and make a fire, all before we even budged toward the light of day; she is very impressive in her early morning abilities. We pretty much sat around the fire in our comfy camping chairs and waited for the coffee to percolate for quite a while, which is a wonderful way to start any day. Your dad timed his emergence from his little cocoon with the last drop of coffee being poured into a mug. He is also very talented in his early morning abilities.

Early morning campers.

Only one of the Bartlett clan is an early morning person. Can you guess which one it isn’t?

Doing a little better…

You and Sophia play wonderfully together. It was so fun to listen to the two of you search, pretend, talk and laugh with one another. Virginia and I each thought to bring a “just in case” activity (watercolors and Play-Doh, respectively), but you both love to play outside so much that there wasn’t much need for extra activities. Pretty much the two of you just played in the tent and shrieked with laughter.

Although sometime you just chilled out in your chairs…

As the adults were all nursing their coffee (Trader Joe’s Wintry Mix–marvelous), a fellow camper named Dawn made her way over to visit. During an early morning stroll through the campground, Virginia and Sophia spoke with this lone woman and discovered that she was trying to make her way towards Minot, North Dakota, which is where Shane lived for a few years as a child. Apparently she wanted to go to Minot because it has the highest employment rate in the country. I never did figure out why this would make it an interesting place to visit. Anyway, Dawn came over with pen and pad in hand, ready to interview Shane about his Minot memories.

Dawn

A word about Shane–he’s kind of a man of few words. In some ways he reminds me of your dad. He’s very smart, highly creative, has an unusual but very real sense of humor and more often seems to prefer watching over participating. As Dawn sat trying to talk with him about Minot, his answers pretty much stuck to “I don’t really know. As I said before, I didn’t really live their very long and I don’t remember much.” To her credit, she continued to probe into the inner-workings of Native American culture in Minot, along with myriad other things that a seven or eight year old would care not a whit about. Eventually she gave up on drilling Shane for information, and turned her attentions to the rest of us. She wanted to know a little bit about each of us, and would in turn provide lengthy accounts about herself. When I discovered that she lives in Ann Arbor I of course had to give her some guff about the upcoming OSU/Mich game (which we just lost–DAMMIT). She was at times very funny and also fairly interesting, but she didn’t read social cues well at all. She stayed entirely too long, continuing to talk to whomever was available to listen, even as your dad, Virginia and I were hiding behind a tent in hopes that she would leave. Sorry, Shane.

It was while we were hiding out that your dad informed me that not only had he not slept well, but that throughout the entire night he was thinking about camping as written by “stuff white people like”; I’ve included it here for you to enjoy:

If you find yourself trapped in the middle of the woods without electricity, running water, or a car you would likely describe that situation as a “nightmare” or “a worse case scenario like after plane crash or something.” White people refer to it as “camping.”

When white people begin talking to you about camping they will do their best to tell you that it’s very easy and it allows them to escape the pressures and troubles of the urban lifestyle for a more natural, simplified, relaxing time. Nothing could be further from the truth.

In theory camping should be a very inexpensive activity since you are literally sleeping on the ground. But as with everything in white culture, the more simple it appears the more expensive it actually is.

Camping is a multi-day, multi-step, potentially lethal activity that will cost you a large amount of both time and money. Unless you are in some sort of position where you absolutely need the friendship of a white person, you should avoid camping at all costs.

The first stage of camping always involves a trip to an outdoor equipment store like REI (or in Canada, Mountain Equipment Co-Op). These stores are well known for their abundance of white customers and their extensive inventory of things for white people to buy and only use once. If you are ever tricked into going to one of these stores, you can make white people like you by saying things like “man, this Kayak is only $1200, if I use it 35 times I’ve already saved money over renting.” Note: do not actually buy the kayak.

Next, white people will then take this new equipment and load it into an SUV or Subaru Outback with a Thule or Yakima Roof Rack. Then they will drive for an extended period of time to a national park or campsite where they will pay an entrance fee and begin their journey. It is worth noting that white people are unaware of the irony of using a gas burning car to bring them closer to nature and it is not recommended that you point this out. It will ruin their weekend.

Once in the camp area, white people will walk around for a while, set up a tent, have a horrible night of sleep, walk around some more. Then get in the car and go home. This, of course, is a best case scenario. Worst case scenarios include: getting lost, poisoned, killed by an animal, and encountering an RV. Of these outcomes, the latter is seen by white people as the worst since it involves an encounter with the wrong kind of white people.

Conversely, any camping trip that ends in death at the hands of nature or requires the use of valuable government resources for a rescue is seen as relatively positive in white culture. This is because both situations might eventually lead to a book deal or documentary film about the experience.

Ultimately the best way to escape a camping trip with white people is to say that you have allergies. Since white people and their children are allergic to almost everything, they will understand and ask no further questions. You should not say something like “looking at history, the instances of my people encountering white people in the woods have not worked out very well for us.”

http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2009/08/14/128-camping/

Foolishness. What crazy person wrote that account of camping? That makes it sound horrible.

I should say, upon entering the campsite I was dismayed to see that campers were not allowed to collect their own firewood, leaving one reliant on $6 cords of wood purchased from the park service. I find this to be highly objectionable as I grew up collecting firewood from around campsites. Rather than comply, I debated for quite a while whether or not I would choose to follow this rule. As I leaned towards breaking the rule, I was confronted with my own insecurities about rule breaking in front of a bio-ethicist, Virginia’s chosen field. I told her of my struggles and she told me that she was not the ethics police, but I still wasn’t convinced I wouldn’t be judged for my obvious lack of morals. I decided that if I only picked up wood that had fallen on the ground that would be adequate and I would not have to feel terribly guilty. As it happened, karma was going to take care of my ethical lapse with a stupefying case of poison oak. Your father suggested that perhaps this is why the “no firewood collecting” rule exists, although it seems to me the park service should then write, “Hey, indignant cheapskate, if you collect firewood here, you will face certain blindness from your eyes swelling shut due to poisonous plants!” I definitely would have paid attention to that sign. Sadly, I have almost no ability to see what I am writing and look like I have been in a smack down with a professional brawler. Hope that green, wet wood was worth it, chump.

I’ve gotten ahead of myself. Allow me to digress: once Dawn finally left, we went off to Malibu to eat Chinese food for lunch. I don’t really know why we did this except we must have all seen A Christmas Story and thought the duck-for-holiday-meal scene was worthy of recounting. Sadly for us, Malibuians apparently don’t deign to cheap and easy Chinese eateries, so we ate a little fish shack. Nothing says Pilgrims and Native Americans like fish n’ chips. After lunch we went to Point Dume tide pools, where you, Sophia, Virginia and I walked around in bare feet, looking for tiny little animal life. We found a sea anemone and you girls loved squishing your fingers into it’s jelly-like body. I’m pretty sure it didn’t appreciate the intrusion, but it was polite until you stuck your finger in its eye. At that point it reared back, causing you to shriek with a curious horror. Fun, fun!

Malibu pier. There’s a reason people pay exorbitant amounts of money to live here.

Tide pools

Sophia, quite the tow-head, eh?

After the tide pools we stopped at a CVS where we bought wood and marshmallows, then headed back to camp. We decided that we should probably eat early, as darkness descends quickly in the mountains and we didn’t want to have to try and be grateful as we all waved forks wildly, trying to find our own mouths in the pitch black. We managed to cook everything we brought for our meal over the campfire, which I still find awe-inspiring. We threw the turkey into some tin foil and put it directly on the coals, then placed the stuffing, chopped up potatoes, smokey macaroni and cheese and steamed vegetables on the grill cover that sat just atop the flames. Eventually we had to move the potatoes to our single burner cook stove because they were taking forever to boil, but at least everything started on the fire! We had homemade cranberry sauce, pumpkin muffins, gravy and a first-ever pumpkin pie (from a pumpkin, girl! You and I made it together!) to round out the meal. And how, you ask, did we mash the potatoes? Enter the mallet. Yes, mallet’s are excellent for burying stake tents, but did you know that it also doubles as a mean potato masher? Craftiness, wahoo, don’t let anyone knock craftiness skills.

Mallet-mashed potatoes. Delicious.

Amazing.

The meal was fantastic, and there was a little space for each person at our checkered tablecloth. Just before we ate, you said, “I am thankful for friends.” WHAT?! Where did that bit of awesomeness come from? I didn’t tell you to do that, nor did your dad, so it may be that you are just as emotional and kitschy as your momma! I am so proud of you, girl! Following your lead, we each went around the table and said what we were grateful for. It’s a tradition I hope we will keep, wherever Thanksgiving takes us in the future.

After the meal we got down to some s’more making, or, as you call it, s’mear making. I don’t really know that I appreciate you calling one of life finer delicacies “s’mears” but we’ll leave it alone for now and hope you outgrow it. You caught many too many marshmallows on fire, but didn’t seem to mind the char taste. I tried diligently to lightly brown my marshmallows, but found myself getting impatient and igniting them as well. I love charred s’mears. I can’t remember now why your father had me make him a s’more, but I do know that it was probably my best effort of the evening. Ah, the things you do for love.

Charred s’mears bring total happiness. Apparently this is a breakfast s’mear, but you’ll have to trust me that they were as joy-inducing the night before too.

The second night of sleep was perhaps less successful than the first. To begin, we were all in bed by seven. This is the downside of camping when it’s cold–once the fire has dwindled (and can’t be revived due to some stupid rule about not gathering wet wood) and the sun sets, there’s not a tremendous amount of stuff to do except go to bed. This is great until about 2 am, at which point all of the adults have had an entire night’s sleep and don’t want to be stuck in a warm cocoon in a freezing tent anymore. Maybe it was at this moment that three of the four adults decided that this would be the last night of camping; I was the holdout, although as I write about it now I can’t figure out why. Camping, gotta love it. Anyway, Virginia spent her evening listening to coyote packs serenading one another, Shane spent his trying to will away his need to go to the bathroom, your dad was probably still reflecting on “stuff white people like” and I spent mine trying not to move as there was another person in my sleeping bag with me. What’s that, you say? Two people in a mummy bag designed for one medium framed female? Welcome to parenthood, little buddy.

Yes, apparently you had a bad dream about dragons, at which point you climbed out of your sleeping bag and snuggled deep into mine. This was probably really nice at first, as it provided additional warmth, but at some point the ability to move freely was not worth the extra heat. By the time you finally got out of my bag, I was aching to move and completely paralyzed from the waist down.

Weary, but spirited, a decision was made to abandon plans for a third night of fun, pack up and head out to visit a friend of Virginia’s who has llamas and horses. We took our sweet time packing up, which was a good decision since Dawn decided to come back for a visit, effectively hindering any ability to move quickly. She invited us to camp with her, offering to let us pay half of her senior citizen camping rate–a steal–certain that the children would have more fun on her side of the campground. We were all pretty insistent that we were leaving, but she was equally adamant that we should stay a few more nights. It was a little strange, after all, she had driven down from Ann Arbor to visit with her family in Orange County, but she wanted us to camp with her? The more we hung out, the more uncomfortable and just sort of sad it got. She used Shane’s very nice camera to take some pictures of us, and instead of having us all yell out, “Cheese!” she opted for, “I love you!” It just felt awkward to be taking a somewhat forced photograph, yelling, “I love you!” to a complete stranger. It certainly made me aware of how lucky we are to have so many places where we feel at home.

We love you, Dawn! Thanks for taking this great picture of four new friends.

Eventually we left and tooled on down the road to go see the llamas and horses. Virginia’s friend Dr. Morgenstern just recently retired from Cedars-Sinai, where he served as the Chief of Surgery for 30 years. He started the Bio-ethics program at Cedars, which is how the two of them know one another. Anyway, he and his wife live in Malibu and have raised horses and llamas for many, many years. I guess they used to have quite a collection of animals, but at this point are down to two llamas and two horses. You and Sophia loved, loved, loved interacting with the animals. You both got to feed the horses and were totally ignored by the llamas, who kind of acted put out by all of our presence. It was a cool way to end our trip, although it was in Dr. Morgenstern’s bathroom mirror that I discovered swelling in my eyes. Naturally I thought it was just a simple allergic reaction to big, hairy animals, but oh no, it was a glimpse of the wrath about to befall a cheapskate rule breaker.

Checking out the horses.

The llamas wouldn’t even glance our way. High-falutin’ little llama!

Once you figured out that you could feed the horses, they were a lot more interested in you.

By the time we arrived home, you, your dad and I were completely worn out and smelled just short of earthy horrifying. I immediately headed for the bath, you went and played in your room and your father lay on the couch with his eyes slightly glazed over. We didn’t do much–watched television, tried to bathe eau de smoke from our bodies, ate dinner. I spent a great deal of time trying to convince your father that indeed my eyes were puffy, which got easier as the night wore on and my actual eyeballs got littler and littler. We all went to bed earlier, and when I awoke, lo and behold if I could barely even see my own image in the mirror due to all the crusty swelling that had occurred in the night.

Please follow the rules, wahoo, even when they don’t seem to make any sense at all. I would hate to think that you should ever have to look like this:

I’m so mortified.

Here are some additional pictures of our trip, all captured so beautifully by Shane. Simply beautiful–I am always envious of people who take good photographs as I seem to have inherited Granny’s photo sensibilities.

Indiana Bartlett, intrepid camper, avid barker.

Mr. Sensitive demonstrating that comfort can always be had.

Your gorgeous dad.

Me and Sophia, playing.

Me and Virginia, who is wearing Dawn’s hat. Not by choice.

So there you have it, a very non-traditional but totally worth it Thanksgiving. At this point the Burkerts’ Christmas gift to one another will be trading the Honda for a VW Camper. While I’m not prepared to say that “stuff white people like” is entirely spot on, I’m pretty sure some parts of camping could be improved upon. Much love to you, kid. And, happy Thanksgiving to all.