There have been several times in the past–in memes and games–what my “perfect” day would be. I’ve never really had a good answer for it. I’m a lot closer to that, now.
At this moment, I am in Florida visiting my mother-in-law and her husband. Today was a great day, but not quite perfect. We got up this morning, got everyone ready, headed to the marina, and set off on their boat. After about an hour, we docked by an island.
The kids went down the water slide off the back of the boat. After awhile, we headed onto the island. The kids played in the water. They used buckets and shovels to dig in the sand. They blew bubbles. We combed the beach picking up shells (there were so many that it sounded like wind chimes as the waves went in and out). We grilled hot dogs on the boat and ate them with cheese, olives, chips and guacamole. We saw a manatee in the water. W~ and C~ napped as we drove the boat back to the marina.
It was a wonderful day (even if I am sunburned from it).
This week, though, I’ve had a day that was even better.
To drive from my house to my current location, about 2/3 of the way down Florida, takes about 17 hours (not counting stops). We drive it in two day, but we try to make the second day really short. We left home Friday at about six in the morning. We didn’t stop at a hotel until about 11:30 at night.
And that, my friends, was just about a perfect day.
I had seventeen hours where all four kids were strapped in and, amazingly, pretty well behaved. Seventeen hours where I got to sit very, very still. Seventeen hours where I didn’t have anything else that I needed to be doing.
After weeks of preparing for Christmas and packing for our trip, it was glorious.