Anyway, today I finally felt human. I was able to extend breathing more than 17 seconds without hacking up a lung, and didn't have a slime eel oozing down my face. Normal? Meh, close enough. Mucinex w/ a shot of DayQuil and we're out the door.
The Mr. and I decided to make use of what time we did have left and roll on out to the Wright Brothers' National Memorial. I'd been there before as a kid, and we figured its a good place to spend a little time and make some fun memories with our kids.
Now, when I was about 9 (I think) my sisters and I went to the memorial with Dad. I remembered it wasn't the most thrilling of places - no bells and whistles - no videos or buttons to push, so we didn't want the kids to get the wrong idea about where we were going. Didn't want them to expect Disney and get the school library (although my oldest would be cool with that). Most parents have been on the receiving end of an "Ahhhhh, man is this it?" whine-a-thon.
So, what does any amazing, self-nominated mother of the year do in a situation like this? Ummm, tell your kids you're taking them to the new commissary (that's a fancy word for grocery stores found on military installations) for a case lot sale on Chicken.
The boys were thrilled. I mean who doesn't want to help mom carry cases of dark meat back to the truck? The girl, well... she's 6 so she hasn't hit the era of disgruntled everything, yet.
This is better than going to any park or commercial amusement center. Right?
Well, when we arrived at the memorial, much to our surprise the gates look very similar to that of a base. There's a uniformed person who takes your entry fee ($8 for adults, Kids 15 & Under Free) and directing traffic.
Our oldest "Oh my gosh mom? Really are we really here to get chicken?"
Don't worry we didn't torture them much longer.
As we walked back to the truck the oldest says "Did we see everything?"
Me "Yeah, buddy what did you think?"
Bubs "Where do they sell the chicken?"
XO XO & Stuff,