After 2000+ miles in the car, we are quite happy to be home. Our vacation was a huge success, and the kids are begging to return to this summer camp again next year. I would rather gouge my eyes out with hot pokers than consider another 2000 miles in the car with 5 kids (2 of whom fought non-stop from Mesquite, NV to home) at any point in the future, let alone as early as next year.
And then, there's the laundry to consider. Oh yes, and I must consult a local orthopedist regarding both broken bones we collected on the trip. Truly lovely to think of Nate in a cast and ruining weekly beach day all summer. I mean really, even if they give him the waterproof one, how will I keep the sand out???
At any rate, as we came into town tonight, only a few miles from our exit, Nate piped up from the seat behind me. "Dad, the speed limit is 70." "I know, Nate. I'm going 70." "But Dad, usually when the speed limit is 75, you go 85, so that means you could go 80 and we could get home faster."
Is it more amusing that Nate reads the speed limit signs, or is it more amusing that he so clearly pays attention to just how much his dad is willing to break the law?