FYI - I have completely given up on posting about our lives in any sort of chronological order. Quite possibly, I will find some pictures later today that I forgot I had taken the night before Christmas 2013, and post about that next. Go with it.
Dear Laney,
This summer has been out of control. We've gone on trips, separately and together. We had a lot of company, because when you live in Montana, it seems people only want to visit you in August. I had a brain injury, and we threw a party for your school (two events that were equally stressful). I just couldn't fathom throwing you a birthday party at our house...the more I thought about picking a theme and decorating and cleaning the house before and after and inviting 20 screaming young'uns into our yard and ordering a cake and etc etc ad infinitum, the more I wanted to take to my bed.
Instead, I presented you with four or five possible destinations, and told you to pick a birthday trip. Wherever you wanted to go, that's where our family would celebrate your birthday. You chose Spokane, Washington, because they have both a Chuck E Cheese and mini golf. AND you could stay in a hotel! Good gracious, how magical can one place BE?
This past Saturday, we loaded up in the truck and headed two states away, and as it turned out, Spokane was the perfect place for you to go from being:
to being:
On our way through Idaho, we stopped at Wendy's for lunch. This is the picture I took about two seconds after asking, "Who's excited we're at Wendy's?!?"
Three seconds after that, I realized that I had maybe oversold this birthday thing, and instead of suggesting birthday destinations like "Camping and canoeing on Flathead Lake," I could'a been pitching "Random fast food establishment off I-90, with an additional stop at the rest area of your choice!"
Since it was your birthday weekend, we told you you could do anything you wanted, within reason. You spent the first 30 minutes of this newfound freedom adjusting the air conditioning unit in our hotel room.
First stop on Laney's birthday tour: The Mobius Discovery Museum in downtown Spokane.
Your dad always acts grumpy about going to these kinds of places, but then he's always the first person to build a castle out of blocks, or play with the electromagnetic catapult or challenge you to a race on the virtual touring bikes. I'm thinking for his 40th birthday next year, we will have to bring him back to the Discovery Museum.
Anyone who has visited your various imaginary stores or restaurants knows you run a tight ship. You ensconced yourself behind the museum's lemonade stand and ran that place with German precision - A cup of imaginary lemonade for $10. No refunds, no exchanges, and no, we don't give change.
Then, the inevitable trip to Chuck E Cheese for dinner and games and a grab-bag of communicable diseases that probably haven't hit us yet:
That night, after winning 153 tickets that you redeemed for a purple bracelet for you and a green airplane for Hagen, you didn't have to be asked to go to bed. Instead, you said, "I can't wait to go to sleep so my body can turn me 5." I don't know what crazy transformational process you thought was going to happen overnight, but we were relieved to see that you looked exactly the same the next morning.
Sunday, the morning of your birthday, we let you open presents right away. Your dad and I got you a scooter, Grandma Sue got you a sparkly purple helmet, Peg Peg and Tex got you a "Frozen" Elsa dress, Granny Jack got you a new backpack and lunch box for kindergarten and Grandpops and Grandma CC got you 10 rock climbing lessons (which is the kind of thing that can happen when someone calls your dad for gift ideas).
Dad took you out to the dead end of our hotel's parking lot to practice.
And I think we all knew this would happen:
Then we made our way to the Spokane Riverfront, stopping at the playground on the way. Later, when I asked your dad what his favorite thing was on our trip, he chose this moment on the playground when a little boy got down on his hands and knees so his sister could use his back as a stool to climb up on a swing. "Those weren't even our kids," I pointed out. "But it proves chivalry's not dead," he said.
The Spokane Riverfront has an entertainment complex with carnival rides and an IMAX theatre and a tour train and an indoor mini golf course, and they sell a day pass for $17 that lets you do it all, all day long. The whole thing is shaded, and there's almost no one there. It was about 70 degrees with a nice breeze coming off the river. Perfection.
We made our way to the carnival midway about eight minutes before the rides were scheduled to open. I told you we'd need to wait eight minutes, and you asked, "How long is eight minutes?" I never know how to answer questions like this. It's like asking, "What color is green?" Uh... So I said, "Eight minutes is how long it takes to count to 60 eight times."
So that's what you did.
We rode everything:
We rode that twirling berry so many times that I noticed these marks on the spinning wheel:
...and could totally relate to whichever poor parent had tried to claw his or her way out of that damn strawberry.
Because it was over 100 degrees every day in south Georgia last week, I include this picture of a sign that was posted near the bumper boats:
Hagen's favorite ride - by far - was this runaway steamboat, which he rode three times and always refused to get out of.
Your favorite - also by a long shot - was the Tilt-A-Whirl. I rode it with you twice:
...And then you asked your dad to go with you. I don't know why, but it tickles me to no end that your dad gets motion sickness on anything that spins. Almost a hundred percent of the time, you dad is the toughest guy in the room - a black belt in Judo who can fly combat missions and survive in the wild. But put him in a spinning strawberry and he is toast.
The teenaged ride operator instructed your dad that if your dad felt sick at any time, he should give a "thumbs-down" sign, and the ride would come to a stop.
Thankfully, that wasn't necessary.
Our last stop was for lunch and birthday cake (Red Robin's Mile High Mud Pie).
And then finally, after 36 hours of non-stop birthday excitement, it was time to head home. You fell asleep before we were out of the Spokane city limits.
Every time the truck would make a turn or go over a bump, your forehead would bang against your computer, so I ended up holding your head all the way through Idaho.
I hope this was the birthday trip of your dreams.
Thanks for being so incredible.
Love,
Mom
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