The day started out innocently enough. The weather was looking much nicer than the original thunderstorms predicted. Mommy, Dash, and Daddy got some good sleep after a long evening. Then the boy got to bond with his paternal grandparents, Grandaddy Don and Grandma Laurie.
Dash got to meet Aunt Debby for the first time (Skype notwithstanding).
After a little nosh for lunch -- because that's what you do in the NYC Metro area, especially when bagels are involved -- we were on the road to Tahl and Bryan's rehearsal dinner upstate. Then the Bronx had to go and ruin everything.
The trip up to Hillsdale (home of the posh Holiday House Motel, assuming you count an extra screen door as "posh") was supposed to take two hours. In reality, on a Friday, the first Friday of summer, some delays are to be expected. The first 13 miles of our 113 mile trip, spent mostly on the dreaded Cross Bronx Expressway, took two hours alone. To put that in perspective, Daddy used to run that distance -- a half marathon -- in 1:20ish.
Dash could have almost crawled it faster. That might not have been a bad idea, as he picked this particular drive to get upset. (Usually he's a stellar traveler.) But as frustrating as his crying got, it still didn't earn him the distinction of "car inhabitant most likely to be voted out at the first gas stop if this were a reality show." That distinction, without naming names, would go to a certain back seat (far back seat, actually, as this was a mini-van) driver who found it necessary to tell everyone at every mile marker that we should have taken another route. Grandma Laurie. Oops.
One drive from hell later, we checked in with just enough time for a short rest before the dinner. It took place at a beautiful, nearby country club. Daddy, likely still traumatized from the four-hour slog, failed to take many photos of the affair.
Here's Mommy and son on the clubhouse deck.
And here we see Uncle Seymour communicating telepathically with Dash.
All photos ©2011 Garrito
Next up: The Farm Fete
2 comments:
Ick, traffic! But by all of the photos, looks like everybody is happy and enjoying themselves, especially center of attention, Dash. Hi to all. Love, GrannyPokey
As someone who travels the Cross Bronx Expressway (Pitttooo) often enough, I feel Dashes pain. I too burst into screaming fits on it. of course, other cars are usuually the cause.
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