This is pretty much all we’ve done this week:
Today the boys and I will be heading over to what we’ve for years called The Far-Away Burger King. It’s the midpoint between our home here in New Hampshire and my sister’s home over toward the coast of Maine, so both of us make a two-hour round trip rather than one of us making a four-hour round trip. SK and his four cousins romp in the play area while us older folks visit over too many french fries. (They remodeled recently, though, and if the play area’s gone we might need to find a new hangout.) Bonus in rescheduling to today rather than Friday due to the weather—my mom has today off and she’ll be there, too.
This should be the last of Christmas. With a big storm coming and the boys unwilling to head to camp tomorrow night with dad (and the four-wheel drive truck), we’ll be missing the holiday party at the campground Saturday. Even my husband’s wavering on going now.
So what if they’re hinting the snow could possibly be measured in feet?
I guess I should go brush my hair and try not to look like I’ve been trapped inside with two kids for a week. (Although, she’s been trapped with her kids for a week, too, and she has four of them, the oldest of whom is younger than SK. But she cleans up better than I do, anyway, so I’ll at least brush my hair.)
ETA: Right after I posted this, the campground owner called. He’s calling it. No party due to weather.