The Olden Days
Morning in Ottawa brought a cranky baby in full-on teething mode to our vacation. Snot-running, mouth-drooling, upset baby - joyfully coupled with said baby not wanting to let us out of his site. While Andrew tried to take advantage of any opportunity he could get for pain relief (fishing with a snotty hand in Mom's drink for ice cubes, for example), Mom and Dad considered making a commercial for Infant Motrin to show the amazing before-and-afters.
Despite Andrew leaving a trail of snot everywhere he went, we did manage to squeeze in a quick visit to loyal blog followers April's Uncle Bob and Aunt Doris, as well as cousins Tyler and Maddie. After that, we fully committed to adding on a few more vacation pounds by heading out to lunch again - this time with April's friend Michael ("Buzzy"), and enjoyed hearing a fresh batch of his always entertaining stories.
Despite the fact that they've met before and that Drew was wearing a shirt Buzzy had given him, there was some love lost in the transition from Mom's lap to Buzzy's for the photo opp (we blame it on the teething pain more than Buzzy himself). Also, Andrew doesn't seem to like anyone these days if it's not Mom, Dad, Grandpa, Grandma, or Buzz Lightyear.
Of particular interest to us was Buzzy's involvement in Seneca's (April's home town) annual Shipyard Days. Seems that once Buzzy got his hands on this festival everything just magically turned to organized. When asked how he did it he replied "Well, I just went on Amazon and bought a book called How to Run a Successful Outdoor Festival."
Bidding farwell to Ottawa, we loaded up the Winnebago and headed to April's Grandparents' farm in Carthage, IL. According to Mark, this was the first time he'd been on a "real" farm.
The views and the weather were breathtaking, and we settled in with a fresh-from-the-garden dinner and a pitcher of sweet tea.
FYI: "dinner" is dinner but "supper" is lunch.
Mark rocked the piano, while Andrew rocked the "Davenport" (can't get enough of this Midwest talk)...
Lawn chairs were opened, well-water baths for dirty, snotty babies were drawn, and we talked about the "olden days" late into the night. As we nodded off in our rocking chairs, fireflies danced around the cornfields and we felt right at home.