I don't know how.
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Both kids took their first significant road trips about 5 minutes after they were born. OK not really. Four weeks for Nathaniel and six for Leah. Close enough. It was well before there was anything even remotely resembling long stretches of sleep at night, so it's all a sleepy, hazy blur to me.
The moral of the story is that they are used to staying at friends' and families' houses.
Very rarely do we get somewhere and have to throw in the towel because one (or both) are just absolutely rotten. This weekend was no exception.
We drove to America's Dairyland on Friday, wandered our alma mater, where one of Hubby's former profs gave them chocolate and little foam brains (logo-ed, of course). After about 5 minutes they had chocolate mustaches and had the other office workers eating out of their hands (figuratively, I swear). Leah was on the secretary's lap, punching keys on the keyboard and Nathaniel was sending his foam brain flying... oh did I mention there was somebody defending a dissertation down the hall? Yikes... no one seemed to mind.
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They were thoroughly entertained by our friends and a few other random adults we met at the tailgate, ate junk and took in their first major league game. They played musical laps and ate from a bag of popcorn as big as Leah. They would have made it to the end of the game, but I really didn't want to be fighting the crowds of drunken fans (I know, in Milwaukee? Never.) with them in tow.
So it was no surprise when we finally got on the road to head home Sunday that they passed out hard. Leah probably would have slept until we hit Indiana, but Hubby and I wanted dinner, so we woke her up at the last oasis in IL. She had been out for 3.5 hours.
Further proof I have two amazing kids... let's hope I'm not in for teenage years from you-know-where.
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