His Mother’s Name Was: Reflections from a Family Vacation

A few weeks ago we took a family vacation to Washington, D.C. It’s a trip we promised our youngest daughter for her ninth birthday, and because my old college roommate works as a Legislative Director in Congress, we surprised her with a private tour of the United States Capitol.

“Dear Federal Government,” I joked on Facebook the day before we left, the day the recent government shutdown ended, “Thank you for reopening just in time for our scheduled VIP tour of The Capitol with a dear friend from college. Sorry in advance for my three-year-old son who will most likely wreak havoc in your hallways. We’ll just call it even for the past sixteen days.”

I had no idea how prophetic those words would be.

My first hint should’ve been when he licked the escalator at the Metro station the next morning. Or maybe his refusal to sleep the night before in our camper that we parked, Griswold style, in my brother’s driveway just a few miles outside the city.

Read the rest over at Pick Your Portion

 

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