We have been plagued with good weather lately, day after day of warm sunshine and clear blue skies. Ordinarily, we get a break on the weekends, when clouds and rain close in so that all the office workers can stay home and do their taxes. But this last weekend remained sunny and we were eventually forced to do something about it.

We celebrated David’s birthday on Saturday, complete with a train cake and grandparents. A friend from the Hood Canal area was visiting and stayed to snap pictures and help me play remote-control car tag on the basketball court with the kids. On Sunday we went to church and hosted a Bible study in the evening … it was a full weekend.

Playing tag with these two remote-controlled cars kept us occupied for more than two hours, I’m embarrassed to admit.

I had wanted to visit Mt. Rainier for our next field trip, and a little research suggested that a number of the hiking trails were open, although travel to the Paradise area (5400′ elevation) was restricted to those with snow chains. This has apparently been a year of minimal snowfall on Rainier, such that the sledding areas are closed due to insufficient accumulation (they require a full 60″ of snow cover to protect the vegetation). I ran my suggestion past the Field Trip Quality Council and it was tentatively approved. Though technically a volcano, Rainier has been dormant in recorded history. After what seemed an eternity of searching the garage for boots and snow pants Monday morning, we all piled into the van and headed southeast.

Since we have moved into the suburbs, Rachel has honed her already-sharp eye for Volkswagon bugs and beetles. She recently set the record (21) of ‘Herbie sightings’ in a single day. We decided to try (as a team) to beat her record, and eventually we did, scoring a total of 35 Herbies in the course of the day. Each time we would see one, we would break into a loud and raucous chorus, sung to no particular tune:

Oh, we now have seen [insert proper number here] Herbies,
We now have seen [same number] Herbies,
Oh we now have seen,
We now have seen,
We now have seen [same number, repeated for emphasis] Herbies!

To while away the time between sightings, I would sing variations on the “I wish I could find that big mountain” theme while Rachel accompanied me with “but I’m too proud to ask for directions”. Eventually David asked us to stop, so we limited ourselves to one chorus per Herbie sighting … it was a great hardship.

Fortunately, Kathy can actually make a cake that is recognizable, so we didn’t repeat the Winnie-the-Pooh cake debacle of 1996. Notice the ‘Herbie’ caboose — we call that literary foreshadowing.

Competition was pretty fierce to be the first one to see a Herbie … Rachel had a very hard time subsuming her individual accomplishment into the team sightings (and kept a separate running total of how many she had seen, apart from how many we all had seen). I demonstrated my maturity by teasing her unmercifully about this. I’m not sure she ever did understand why it was so funny … I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

We finally arrived at the Park Entrance, although I did stop a few times along the way for pictures of the mountain. This was done in tribute to my father’s long-standing tradition in which he would stop for every possible photo opportunity involving Mt. Rainier. As a child, I spent long minutes sitting in the car waiting for him to capture such photographic masterpieces as:

• Mt. Rainier looming over garbage cans
• Mt. Rainier looming over a field with cows
• Mt. Rainier looming over a field without cows
• Mt. Rainier looming over a few rusty cars
• Mt. Rainier looming amidst a large bunch of clouds

I might as well just start out with a gratuitous shot of The Mountain.

I estimate Dad has as many as a thousand pictures of Mt. Rainier and its environs … we used to tease him that he worshipped the Mountain, a charge he denied fiercely, but which did not deter him from stopping for yet another picture of Mt. Rainier looming over wild flowers.

We bought an annual pass to the park, confirming my optimistic intention of visiting at least twice more, and we drove on to our first objective … a restroom. Daniel continues to lead the family in his need for frequent rest stops; I had foolishly given him a Capri Sun about 40 minutes before we got to the park. We stopped at the campground at Sunshine Point, and enjoyed a half-hour of clambering over sun-baked rocks and volcanic sand along the banks of the Nisqually River. David really liked playing at the river, and later asked at least five times to go back there, in spite of the fact that he fell (or was he pushed?) in the river within the first minute of our visit. It was a little nerve-wracking for me to watch Sarah make her uncertain way over the rocks. I kept expecting an injury with expensive dental repercussions, but we were mercifully spared such a mishap.

Only David could look this cheerful after a dunking in the Nisqually.

We ate lunch at the Kautz Creek picnic area, enjoying the sunshine and spectacular view of the mountain, and throwing snowballs at one another. Although the bridge was out about 1.2 miles up the trail, I thought it might be nice to walk at least that far, remembering this trail from my own childhood. Surprisingly, the hike was mostly in shadow, a new-growth forest having mysteriously sprung up in the last thirty years or so. Joshua seemed very amused by my indignation over the ‘sudden’ growth of the forest and the fact that I considered 30 years a ‘short’ period of time … it made me feel like quite the geezer.

I rounded up the usual suspects, but we never did find out whether David fell or was pushed.

The kids enjoyed a running snowball fight throughout the hike, and we all had fun hiding in a big hollow tree, some more than others. The trail ended abruptly at a sharp drop-off where the bridge used to be, and we weren’t able to get down into the creek bed, which was disappointing (some of us would have welcomed another chance to fall in). I had neglected to place a mandate on jackets or sweatshirts, and we were all glad to get back to the sunny parking lot … it was pretty cool in the snowy forest. David and Sarah were tough little troopers, walking nearly the entire 2.4 miles roundtrip … I was very proud of them both. David could not resist picking up snow along the path, and so I took on the additional duties of Chief Hand Warmer.

It was a little snug, but I was fine, until I remembered Old Man Willow from Tolkien’s The Fellowship of the Ring

We drove up to Longmire and explored the Inn and General Store there, buying a few obligatory postcards. We hiked the short ‘Walk of the Shadows’ loop around the Longmire meadow, and then played some more in the snow around the Inn. It was coming up on nap-time for the little ones, and so I decreed that we would head for home, keeping a sharp eye out for Herbies all the way. Everyone (except Joshua and probably me) dozed until we stopped off near home for ice cream cones at McDonald’s Playland … we sat around the table there and I told the kids how much I had enjoyed the day with them. They all agreed I was a wonderful Dad, so I gave them each their ice-cream cone. You can’t be too careful when fishing for compliments, I’ve found. I let them all play a little while, and then we went home.

Not even Washington, crossing the Delaware, looked this heroic.

It was a glorious day … we all were a little sunburned, and I managed to snap a number of pictures of the mountain that would make my Dad proud. Kathy got some well-needed respite from being a 24×7 parent and home-school teacher, and the kids got a chance to play in the snow. For some reason it is (so far, anyway) easier for me to set this field trip day aside than it is for me to set aside five distinct one-hour blocks on separate days … maybe the expectations aren’t quite as intense, or perhaps there is some other explanation. Whatever the reason, I finished the long weekend charged-up and ready to face my work-week again.

The Geneva Convention was thrown to the wind, as were caution and a few snowballs.

Kathy and I are really enjoying the Parenting class at our church, taught during the Sunday School hour by a couple with eight children. I think a lot of people are cheating themselves out of most of the joy of parenting … like anything else, it seems to be just a matter of applying a little effort to get the most out of it. We’re watching carefully to see how those with teenagers manage … I think we might be in for some wild and wooly times ahead.

A few weeks ago the leaders of the Parenting class had to be out of town and asked Kathy and I to teach. It was surprising to me how much I enjoyed the chance to teach and what a difference it made in my spiritual walk, to have the opportunity to exercise my spiritual gift. I think the lack of teaching opportunities is one of the things I’ve missed most … except for a brief visit to Michigan, I haven’t taught Sunday School in almost two years.

As it turned out, the leaders’ retreat was cancelled, but they let me teach anyway, which was very gracious but a little scary, since David and Kelly were there and could see it first-hand if I messed up. A number of our kids were sick, so Kathy stayed home while I taught the class, then we swapped and she went to church while I stayed home. Fortunately, she collaborated with me in advance, which turned out to be a big help.

Even the rocks Sarah throws are dainty.

One of the things we talked about this last week had to do with how we define success, and how we communicate those definitions to our children. I felt rather convicted that I have heavily bought into worldly measures of success, including power, prestige and (perhaps most of all) money. I was reminded that at the end of my life, it will matter a lot more what kind of a husband or Dad I was than what was printed on my business card (or if I even had one). At work we’re in the midst of Performance Review season, and my focus has been on finding ways to measure my strengths and weaknesses. I wonder what my review would look like, if I faced an annual review as Dad:

Please rate the employee according to the following criteria, using the following scale:

1. Strongly Agree
2. Agree
3. Disagree
4. Strongly Disagree
5. Not Enough Information

• Keeps his promises
• Is fun to be around
• Teaches the scripture
• Lives out what he teaches
• Tells the truth
• Works hard
• Pursues justice
• Acts with gentleness and compassion
• Forgives and doesn’t hold grudges
• Is generous
• Shows kindness
• Demonstrates patience
• Exercises self-control
• Loves others
• Provides for his family
• Disciplines his children
• Lives with his wife considerately
• Treats others as more important than himself

David and Sarah were very sweet to each other throughout the day.

Ultimately we will all face the King of Kings, receiving from His hand our eternal reward based on just such a review, only much more comprehensive, as our works are tested by fire. These kind of reflections encourage me take a deep breath and square my shoulders … I have some work to do on a few of those, I’m afraid.

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Children are strange creatures. It doesn’t seem that long since I was a child (indeed, some would say I still act rather childishly) yet I am constantly surprised by my kids. Last week Joshua and I were trying to decide what to do for his Special Day … he is so much less competitive than I was at his age. Rather than be defeated, he would prefer not to play … at his age I would have played at least until I could win consistently. He won’t play any game against me these days … we come from such different philosophies. In my thinking, the only shame is not being willing to try … there is no humiliation in losing a game. Then again, I don’t lose very often, so I can afford to be glib.

Joshua often enjoys a seat by the fire.

I’ve been reading Bible-related animal stories to the kids at night during ‘Chapter Time’ … fictional stories about animals reacting to various human events loosely associated with scriptural stories. After we prayed, I sent each child to bed, calling them by a silly nickname. Names are such powerful things … each child waited until I called them by their nickname and ran off delightedly telling the others what I had called them. “Off to bed, Faithful!” I said to Rachel, making a pun on the lavender-colored hooded sweatshirt that she wears 24×7 until we have begun calling it ‘Old Faithful’. “Get into your bunk, ‘Toothless in Tacoma’!” I said to Daniel, teasing him about the recent removal of his two lower front teeth. Even Sarah wanted to be called something, so I dubbed her “Muffin Toes” which all agreed was appropriate. “Brown Eyes” (David) and “Special Boy” (Joshua, in honor of Thursday being his Special Day) ran off to bed well-satisfied.

Two roses — both still blooming at Christmas

I really like being a Dad, which is a good thing, considering how much time it requires. It will be a strange thing to have these rascals grow up and move out … assuming they ever do.

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Now that we are mostly moved-in to the rental house in Lakewood, and Kathy has returned from her two-week trip to Michigan, there is a sense of settling in as we hammer out our daily routines and begin to establish patterns of living in this new place.

In the past, I have intermittently observed ‘Special Days’ with my children. Special Days™ entail an hour (or ninety minutes) of focused time spent on just one of the children, each day. The weekly schedule somehow worked itself out to be:

• Joshua -> Thursday
• Rachel -> Monday
• Daniel -> Wednesday
• David -> Tuesday
• Sarah -> Friday

Sometimes Special Days get a little rough.

Truth be told, Sarah never really got her ‘Special Day®’ … I had mostly discontinued this regular practice by the time she was old enough to be aware of the privilege. Isn’t it tidy, though, that we now have five children … Monday through Friday is filled. When David was born, and his siblings asked, mercilessly, when he would get a Special Day©, the party line was: “When he can say ‘Special Day™’, he can have one.” Of course, that led to the children coaching a 3-month-old David, helpfully: “Say Special Day®, David, say Special Day&copy.”

The kids used to wait on the fence for me in 1999 when we lived in Kirkland. How time flies!

The kids really looked forward to their Day … I found it a good opportunity to catch up on what they were thinking and to ‘connect’ on an individual level. The practice started when I was working for AT&T Wireless and we lived in Kirkland … I began to bring one child (at that time we had only three) to McDonalds on a weekday morning. We would eat breakfast together and I would watch as they clambered around on the play structure … it was surprisingly fun for them to peek and call out to me from various vantage points. The key seemed to have me engage in their play, rather than (as I sometimes tried) sitting and reading my book while they played. Later (as my work-from-home privileges were extended and I had some flexibility in my work day) we began to diversify … I would take one child ‘exploring’ in a nearby park during lunch time, or I would go on a bike ride with another child. Sometimes we would go to Denny’s, or have a picnic lunch in the yard, play a board game, or just muck about with toy soldiers and blocks on the floor.

One favorite activity was to line up a bunch of soldiers and take turns shooting marbles at each other’s army, eliminating soldiers as they were struck. I don’t know why that was so fun … perhaps the ‘realistic’ dying sounds and rolling around on the floor added to the charm of this simple game. This might be a little bloodthirsty for some, but our kids like it and I’m particularly skilled at “Arrrrghhhh!” sounds.

This little girl can say “Arrrrghhhh!” with the best of them.

The smaller children prefer to simply sit down and read through a stack of 15 or 20 books. I used to keep a journal about the time we spent, which Kathy would read with no small amusement and the occasional snide remark about the way I always record the weather.

I saw a number of benefits from this practice. First, Kathy and I noticed a distinct improvement in the children’s behavior, particularly Rachel and Daniel. Similarly, we saw a definite decrease in emotional outbursts when ‘Special Days’ were regularly enjoyed. I felt more in-touch with my children, and more confident in my discipline. I had more opportunities to teach the kids about God, and a chance to seriously and patiently answer some of their many questions. I think that Kathy felt loved and proud of my involvement with the kids.

But it takes a lot of time and energy, especially now that there are so many of the little blighters, I mean, darlings. Even while I was unemployed, I found that I was only able to celebrate ‘Special Days’ with the kids on a sporadic basis. Each week, the expectations seemed to be higher and higher and the pressure to find a ‘really fun’ activity became almost paralyzing.

This picture doesn’t really have anything to do with this blog, but since I didn’t write about Halloween, it will have to be stuck in here. Daniel received a lot of positive comments about his costume.

Perhaps now, more than ever, it is important that I spend some individual time with each child, so that they will feel valued and loved ‘apart from the crowd’.
I’ve taken the kids out to breakfast at McDonalds once or twice since we’ve moved to Lakewood and everyone found that to be a fun outing. Celebrating their special days by eating out five times a week seems a prohibitive expense, and hacking an hour out of each busy workday seems nearly impossible.

And yet … Special Days seem to be very important to the kids. When I get home in the evening, I am usually hungry and tired, and don’t particularly feel like Super Fun Daddy. Our evenings are rarely well-scheduled, and mealtimes are sometimes irregular. How can I carve out the time, privacy, money and energy necessary to make this time well-spent?

When I was nine or ten, our family planned a week-long ski vacation in Switzerland. My folks pulled us out of school, and we set out southward in our little VW square-back wagon from our home in Wiesloch, Germany. About an hour or so into the journey, Dad was cruising along in the left lane of the Autobahn at around 90 mph, when the engine suddenly shut off. Expertly changing lanes as traffic whizzed around us, Dad nipped into an opportune rest area and the car coasted to a halt beside one of those emergency roadside phones. Ultimately, we rode to town perched high on the bed of a tow truck. My little sister, Posie, thought it was great fun, and looked down on the traffic below with regal pity and considerable glee. We were back at our home before dark, very disappointed with the sudden end to our vacation.

In a moment of brilliance or deep wisdom, my parents decided to pretend that we were still on vacation. Dad was on leave, we were excused from school, other social and ministry engagements were cancelled. They reasoned that no one would be the wiser, and we could enjoy some family time at home. We kept the window-shades down in the house, and (with our car in the shop) no one knew we were home.

This is one of the only family photos in which I am not scowling, so I include it for historical reference.

The weather was cold and rainy, so we just stayed inside and played board games for much of the time. We popped popcorn and ate a lot of breakfast foods; meals were not according to any particular schedule and were often self-serve affairs, ‘whatever you can find’. Dad astounded us all with his famous technique of ‘stirring sandwiches’ and general ineptitude in the kitchen.

It was during this week that the Great Rubber Band Fight was born, and we spent hours planning strategies to dislodge my Dad from his fortress and to capture Big Red, the coveted WMD of rubber bands. We learned that Mom, although a noncombatant, was hardly nonpartisan, and would smuggle aid to the enemy at the first opportunity. Posie honed her Kung Fu techniques, and amused us at every opportunity with fierce attacks on her hulking brothers. It is also during this time that I remember my parents first drawing out the plans for the retreat center they hoped some day to open, a project that is even now under way.

It was Thursday before anyone discovered we were home … maybe we left one of the blinds open, or perhaps one of us incautiously answered the phone, but the jig was up, and my parents were swept back into the rush of their usual commitments. In the meantime, we had one of the best vacations ever.

Sadly, there were no pictures taken that vacation. But here’s my brother showing a little leg, anyway.

Those are the kind of memories I want my children to have. (Not memories of my brother’s hairy leg — memories of fun family vacations. You understand the need to clarify.) That is why ‘Special Days’ are so important … they communicate to each child on a regular, scheduled basis that they are precious and valued. Kathy has bought many activity books for me and often has ideas … there is no real excuse on that front. So it just comes down to this question: where are my priorities? Would I rather play Age of Empires by myself than spend that time with my kids? In theory, the answer is a resounding “No!”. But some questions are rhetorical … it can be best not to answer them, or not to look too closely at the answers.

And so I began with Daniel, since it was Wednesday. He and I gathered up the Stratego game and closeted ourselves upstairs with a small table and our game. I taught him some of the key strategies I learned from my uncle Steve and carefully let him win (a surprisingly difficult and painful thing for one as competitive as I). We talked about the game and nothing of consequence, but I think he enjoyed it. He (having been coached in advance) carefully thanked me when we were done, rather than complaining that it was ‘too short’ or ‘not fun enough’ as has been his habit in the past.

Naturally, with such a strong beginning, I missed the next two special days. We dined with my sister and her family on both of the successive evenings, and the time slipped away without celebrating Joshua or Sarah’s special days. Over the weekend, I made up Joshua’s (we spent an hour playing a computer game together) but Sarah remains short-changed. So far no one has pointed out this slight to Sarah, but I’m sure one of the children will quickly correct that oversight.

Would you buy a used car from this girl?

When we were talking about Special Days at supper on Wednesday, and she was informed that she would get one, her little face lit up: “I get a Special Day?” she shouted, raising her little eyebrows in a comical manner. She doesn’t know what it is, but if the rest of the kids get one, by golly she wants one. Tonight I will try not to forget Rachel’s day … I don’t want to unnecessarily fuel the competition between her and Daniel.

It can be difficult sometimes. I don’t know about you, but I find that “Chutes and Ladders” does not provide sufficient intellectual stimulation to be truly enjoyable for me. Lying down on the floor and driving trucks around on the rug can lose its charm after only a few minutes, for many of us. But I have found that if I focus on the son or daughter rather than on the activity, it rivets my attention. Every now and then a window opens and you get a glimpse of the heart of your child … it can be a breathtaking view.

I have to be really careful to take my ‘parent’ hat off during Special Days. In my passion for encouraging righteousness, I constantly struggle with my tendency to judge, correct or rebuke my children on a 24×7 basis. While setting a standard and holding your children to that standard is a large part of parenting, Special Days seem to operate outside the scope of that parental function. It seems to be a matter of trust and relationship building … often during such times my children confide in me their doubts and dreams, victories and sins. Taking a harsh, corrective stance at this point can quench that trust more quickly than you can imagine. When a child opens their heart to you, it is like being invited into a precious garden. You can walk carefully on tip-toes, admiring each blossom, or you can stomp in with hobnailed boots, ripping out any plant that might be a weed. When I choose the latter, it is often a long time before I am again invited in. It is hard to remember this.

The other day Kathy was listening to a homeschooling tape about Filling Your Child’s Love Bucket and the speaker shared that her husband celebrates “Special Days” with his children. Kathy was vaguely affronted that someone else had ‘stolen’ our family given name, but I must say that I wish all Dads would steal it. We live in a society where the broken family has become the norm, and many children are growing up with little or no relationship with one or both of their parents, even where their parents remain together. It is such a little thing, only an hour a week, but it seems to make a huge impact on the heart of a child.

Our couch was too heavy to move out of the garage, so there it stays.

[Editor's Note: Since this blog entry was written, I have enjoyed considerable success. I played Battleship with Rachel, read books over rootbeer floats with David, played Tri-ominoes with Daniel, taught Joshua to play an Avalon-Hill game, and read books with Sarah. So far this week I took Rachel to Baskin Robbins (Kathy nearly threw a temper-tantrum over the unfairness of it all) and played Legos and Crossfire with David. Perhaps because of the sporadic nature of past Special Days, David hasn't realized I intend to make this a weekly event. Each time his Day is over, he asks for another, and I magnanimously grant him another day on the following Tuesday. He runs off and tells Kathy, excitedly, "I get another Special Day on Tuesday! It warms my heart. ]

This boy would take all his Special Days in a tractor, if we had one. In Michigan, he stuck like glue to Kathy’s Dad, and called me “Grandad” for a week after they got back. High praise, indeed.

[Special Day™®© is neither a registered trademark or copyrighted in any way, shape or form. I just like playing with the HTML codes for those symbols.]

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With combined frequent-flier miles (some graciously donated by my folks) the five children and I were able to fly to Detroit this month to join my family in celebrating my brother’s wedding. It is not an trivial matter, flying with five children, as you can well imagine. The three boys and I went to Texas in August and had not one, but two layovers. It was an extremely long flying experience (both ways) especially for such a short visit (less than a week). It did, however, result in many miles accrued for our frequent-flier memberships. It also made me very confident about dealing with a ‘short’ trip to Michigan of only 4.5 hours. Really, how bad could it be? We have this spiffy portable DVD player which makes flying much more entertaining. I traveled with Tim’s old laptop so I could watch movies or write if I desired. I even had Tim load a movie on to his MP3 player. I was set.

Don’t they look sweet? What adorable children!

This time Tim was able to get a gate pass and accompany us to our departure gate. I guess I looked a bit overwhelmed with five squirmy, active children. They were probably so glad someone was willing to claim us and help us so they didn’t have to feel responsible. I loaded all the kids up on Dramamine before we boarded. The four older children swallowed it fine but Sarah decided to chew it. We’d learned on our last flight that it was NOT a chewable medicine (tastes awful). The other kids were all yelling at Sarah to drink her juice, take a bite of a cracker, something. It was funny. She just scrunched up her nose and kept chewing. She made a face, finished the pill and then calmly drank her juice. She’s obviously tougher than the rest of us.

As always, I dressed the children in matching red shirts, so they could be easily found if they were somehow separated from us. For some reason, Tim didn’t wear a red shirt as he accompanied us to the gate — can’t imagine that he would have wanted to distance himself from us or anything.

… and now for the un-posed picture showing the fighting & arguing …
We were in the BACK of the plane (row 44) so we took advantage of their early boarding time — I figured they wouldn’t hassle me as they board those back rows first plus I’m sure I looked just a wee bit stressed handling back packs and lap top bags and assorted baby blankets. Thankfully we can’t really see ourselves during those moments. “Hold on to your sister’s hand. Don’t drop that bag! Wait, wait, not yet. Okay, keep walking. Don’t stop, there are people behind us.” The only thing more awkward is trying to hold a baby at the end of the walk way while closing up the stroller. I think one time I actually handed one of the children to a complete stranger while I found the clasp on the stroller. Ah, the things we are driven to in times of stress. On this night the last thing I saw was Tim waving to us sweetly as he watched us board the plane. For some reason it was very touching to see him standing there loving us.

“Round up the usual suspects”

Joshua and Daniel fell asleep almost immediately. Rachel settled down to look out her window but David and Sarah were full of energy. They enjoyed a lollipop which was a nice diversion but gave them sticky hands. Since I’m one of those awesome, plan-ahead moms (I wish) I had some cute apple-scented hand wipes in my bag (out and ready to use). I quickly disposed of the remains of their candy and wiped their hands down thoroughly. Sarah was cheerful but a bit wiggly. I finally pulled her across the aisle to sit with me and Daniel. She was fine there. David, however, began to lose his ability to stay quiet and calm. It turns out my careful wiping of his hands had left a nasty residue on his comfort, sucking fingers. This was a BAD mistake as he proceeded to let everyone in our area know how upset he was. We were in the middle of taking off so I couldn’t take him to the bathroom to rinse his fingers. I didn’t have any water with me on hand so I was left to (very effectively) say things like, “Quiet now, David. Just a minute, honey, I’ll help you. Okay, I hear you, we all hear you. It’s okay.” Finally I just threw caution to the wind and slipped across the aisle to sit with him. He settled down fairly quickly and went to sleep.

Joshua enjoys a well-earned respite

They all slept the rest of the entire flight. It was a nice, empty flight so we had lots of room. Daniel and Sarah had one triple section to themselves, David and Rachel another and Joshua and I the last. We could all stretch out. When we arrived Joshua sleepily said, “That was the best flight I’ve ever been on.” Ha! He must have slept just fine. We didn’t watch a single movie or read any of the books I packed. Well, better to be prepared then bored and screaming. I’m sure everyone around us would have agreed with that statement.

Daniel, the world-weary jet-setter

Of course, it was 3 in the morning WA time and David and Sarah were not so thrilled with being awakened. David cried and cried. I held Sarah but couldn’t get through the aisle with the two back packs on my shoulders. David was weeping (fairly quietly at this point) in front of me. The older kids had long since walked ahead of me. Finally the nice college-aged man behind me offered to carry one of the bags so I could at least make some progress forward. David cried the entire length of the plane, on the walk way and up until the doors of the check-in gate. At some point Grandad picked him up and carried him. The next time I caught his eye, David smiled this innocent, content smile. Argh! It was wonderful that Mom and Dad were able to meet us at the gate and help with all of our carry-on’s.

A successful voyage!

Whew. We’ll see how the return flight goes. This blog (which was intended to be a short little paragraph) has grown quite lengthy. Hopefully the cute pictures make things bearable.

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