Planning for Maine

Most businesses and schools are closed today for Washington's birthday, but the university is customarily stingy with holidays so Tab has to work. As we were driving home from Princeton after dropping him off, the boys began talking about our annual summer visit to Maine. Never mind the fact that our vacation is still nearly six months away; they sounded as though they were preparing to leave tomorrow.

Daniel started the conversation by saying, "I can't wait till we go to Maine!"

"I'm going to bring my tape player," Stephen said. He and Matthew each received a cassette tape player for Christmas, but only recently did we get around to putting batteries in the players, so the novelty has not yet worn off.

"I'm going to bring my Walkman and my Star Wars tape," decided Daniel.

Matthew began planning which of his stuffed animals to take with him. "Can I pack Ferdie in your suitcase, Mama?"

"We can put our animals in our backpack, Matthew," Stephen suggested.

"OK. But if we have too much stuff, Mama, can we pack it in your suitcase?"

"Sure."

"Mama, if it takes ten hours to drive to Maine, how many minutes is that?" Daniel asked.

"Well, there's 60 minutes in an hour and it takes 10, so 60 times 10 is 600. That's a lot of minutes, isn't it?"

"Mama, will you bring our cups with milk when we go to Maine?"

"Of course, honey."

Daniel said, "I'm going to bring my red canteen full of water in case I run out of milk."

"Daniel, can I have some of your water?"

"Maybe. If you're really thirsty."

"Will you bring food, Mama?"

"Yup, I'll pack sandwiches. Remember last year we stopped at that rest stop with the playground and ate our lunch there?"

"Yeah. Will you bring the Narnia books and read to us in the car?"

"Sure, although maybe we'll be reading some other book by then. Don't worry, guys. We have lots of time to pack for Maine."

1:15 p.m. I've taken the three boys to the playground. It's a sunny, clear day in the 40s. There are still large patches of snow in the shaded areas directly below the maze. It's a little nippy, but I'm able to type on my Palm with my keyboard attachment.

We brought our lunch with us to eat here. On the drive over, Matthew voiced his concern: "What if other kids throw snowballs at our lunch, Mama?"

"They won't."

"But how do you know?"

"Because their parents won't let them."

As we pulled up to the parking lot, Matthew sighed in relief. "Good, there are no other kids here." Other children did arrive after we finished lunch. Eventually the boys ended up in a snowball fight with a pair of girls.

"Daniel! Don't throw snow up the sliding board!" I yelled.

"Ow! That girl just threw a snowball at my head!" Matthew cried.

"Well, you should have had your hood on," I said, unsympathetically.

When it was time for us to leave, the mother of the two girls prompted her daughters, "Say thanks to the boys for the snowball fight."

"Thank you," said the girls, politely and in unison.

"Nyah nyah nyah nyah, poopyhead!" Stephen called back.

I winced and smiled apologetically at the other mother. Time to start working on manners again.

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