Friday, November 8


Sometimes Seth is a little hard to read.  He's past the overt stage of childhood that includes a lot of autopilot parenting.  You know.  It's eight, he's crying - time for bed.  She's climbing into her booster - snack time.  His teeth are chattering - bundle him up.  He already has experience, expectation, and emotion tossed into the mix.  And while it certainly can be obvious what is going through his mind and heart, it isn't always.  So I asked afterwards, what he thought.  He got to play enough, really liked playing games, wished we would have cooked together more, loved the ocean, thought Noah was too noisy in the morning, and thought Epic on movie night was awesome.  He wanted more popsicles, warmer water, more bubbles, more books, more time.  And wished he didn't still need 11hr of sleep, and that he could've had fewer showers.

He finagled his way to fun, coached Paige out of mischief, played in the sand with Adam, sat with Noah in the morning.  He flashed a lot of grins, shed a few tears, laughed himself silly, and delivered a few "oh maaaan"s.  It was a pretty sweet trip.

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