“Get up!”“I don’t want to go, it’s too early!” she said.“It’s 4:30, it’s not early, now let’s go.”Ten minutes later, Andrew is dressed and ready, quietly reading. Max and Charlie are still in bed.Not until the car is packed, pre‐heated and halfway down the driveway do our 2 rock stars emergefrom the house. Was this a sign of things to come?
On the uneventful flight, Andrew finished one book and read 136 pages of his next one, Charlieplayed with his Nintendo DS or watched “Where the Wild Things Are” and Maddie noshed onolives. That sentence pretty much sums up our lives. For much of the trip, Charlie played ScribbleNots, a Nintendo game that allows the players to think of new and creative ways to kill a characternamed Jeff. Poor Jeff was killed by a sickle, a rogue church usher and of course the ubiquitous abroken parachute. Upon arrival, we hailed a cab. During the ride, I made the mistake or asking thecab driver to stop texting while driving. Although he complied, he proceeded to give us the ride of our lives. His tip reflected his level of “service” and I hope to never see him again.Once checked into our hotel, we promptly (after two episodes of Zack and Cody) hit
for lunch. This hole in the wall restaurant in Chinatown is not to be missed and they evenaccommodated two of the world’s pickiest vegetarians. From there we climbed one of the steepest hills in the hilly city of SF, to reach the base of
. For a claustrophobic who’s afraid of heights, Coit Tower and its rickety phone‐booth of an elevator was terrifying for Tanya. Havingher children play on the stairs and wrestle at the top didn’t help matters. Translation – we got outa there a lot quickerthan I would have liked but we saw the view and smelledthe centuries‐old elevator.From Coit Tower, we basically fell down a steep hill towards
where we watched what’s left of thesea lions at Pier 39. They barked and fought but I couldn’t help but wonder, where did they all go? Apparently, inaddition to historic blizzards, Al Gore’s global warming hasalso chilled the water temperature and driven the sea lionssouth. We then cable‐carred it back to the hotel and I fellasleep. I mean
asleep. I could not move. No dinner, nofun. It was 6:47pm. George Burns and Olympia Dukakiscould have called me old. The family did something, Andrew read his book, Charlie probably killedJeff on his Nintendo DS and then my alarm clock went off and it was time for Day 2.
The best part of our family trips is the “family,” not the “trips.” It’s the little things that happenalong the way. It’s like John Lennon put it in his song Beautiful Boy: “Life is what happens whenyou’re busy making other plans.”