If you haven't gathered it from the hotel swimming and seeing old friends, we're on a road trip.
We are back in our beloved Michigan.
Which I didn't realize was still a beloved part of my life until we stepped out of the car the moment we arrived. The cool air, the summer clouds, the breeze - so distinctly West Michigan.
I'm not a fan of Midwest winters. They are brutal for someone who battles arthritis every day.
But, the summers. Oh, the summers. They are magnificent in every way. Which is why we decided to make a family trip out of my husband's business trip and come up here as a family to visit our old hometown.
My husband, whom I lovingly refer to as Clark Griswold when we are on road trips, packed the swagger wagon to the gills. And, we headed northwest this past weekend to the place we called home for almost 5 years. After a stop to visit our dear friends in Columbus - who spoiled us with some of the best pizza we've ever had and ice cream that had little pieces of chocolate fudge in it (Oh, HELP!), we arrived in Michigan on Sunday afternoon.
I almost cried when we pulled onto 28th street. So many memories. So much good life here. Maybe I'll write more on that when I can process it better without chlorine stung eyes and following a good night's sleep.
So for this week, we're packed into a small hotel suite. Clark and I in the bedroom. The older boys on the sofa bed. The baby in the pack 'n play.
In a makeshift bed on the chair. He sleeps in this little toddler bed at home, so we thought this would be the perfect little "bed" for him since he likes to sleep in small spaces. He's a wild sleeper so we decided against putting him with his older brothers. And, the pack 'n play sheet fit perfectly over the cushion and ottoman - a delightful and unexpected discovery.
After our first night in the hotel, he came toddling into our bedroom before we woke up. But this morning, exhausted from hours in the pool and a late night with friends, we woke up and heard - nothing! All of the boys were still sleeping at 7:30! Record. Literally.
But, when we went out to get them dressed for breakfast, Lincoln's little bed was empty.
Where was he? It didn't take long to find him. He had found a cocoon even better than his little bed.
In the corner. Under the coffee table.
A makeshift bed of his own choosing. He probably thinks it's a fort. Or a castle. I'll have to ask him.
Remind me, have I told you how much I love three year-olds?
I am crazy about them. They are indescribably lovable. From the tops of their "No, No, I don't want to" shaking little heads to the bottoms of their precious little Batman footed pajamas.