Dan travels for work fairly often, but it's not a bad deal because he's usually only gone one night each time he goes. He goes the same three places--Tampa, Jacksonville, and Carlisle, PA. Carlisle is about 3 hours from us, and though it is a quiet little town, there is a ton to do between here and there. So this last time he went, we all tagged along.
I should tell you that Dan has been practically begging us to tag along, but upon our return he didn't seem to think we needed to accompany him again soon in the near future. Interesting.
The hotel itself was enough reason to go. Two bathrooms (we only have one), better television, continental breakfast, AND an indoor pool and jacuzzi. Basically a resort by our standards.
When it was time to leave, we checked out and walked to the car outside. Dan was helping Gwen and pulling a suitcase, I was carrying Harris and pulling a suitcase, and June was walking by herself. She tripped over totally nothing and landed on her arm and cried and cried. It was a familiar cry. The sort of shrieky cry that tells me an orthopedist visit is in my future.
It wasn't like it was visibly broken. And we had already paid for tickets to go to the Turkey Hill ice cream museum COMPLETE with the ice cream making class, and we weren't going to miss that. So I told June to wait and see if it would be okay in a bit, and she agreed. She held it close to her and wouldn't use it but mostly forgot about it while we drove to Turkey Hill.
We had a great time at Turkey Hill, aside from my usual complaint that I am Doug Beck's daughter and want to start at the beginning of the museum and move from exhibit to exhibit in an orderly fashion, reading every word and not missing anything and my children are wild banshees who flit and dart from place to place and ruin my wonderful plans. I actually DO want to know how many cows are milked each day for the ice cream. I DO want read about how the company started and who runs it now and whatever else the heck my $9.99 ticket gets me.
But I brought these people. And they are most excited about the slide.
I'm just going to blame the fact that I thought this picture next to a random garbage can was a good idea on how crazy it is chasing little kids around.
June wanted the full dairy cow experience.
Which brings me to this picture. I am the biggest ice cream fan alive. And it kills me (KILLS ME) when Dan and I go out for ice cream at some place that sells their own amazing flavor of Chocolate Crunch Caramel Moose Tracks Swirly Lovers' Delight or whatever, and this guy always order BUTTER PECAN. It's his favorite. So I always tease him about being an old man. I took him to the Creamery on 9th for his first time a few years ago, and he tried to order butter pecan and the girl behind the counter wouldn't even give it to him because she was dismayed that that would be his choice for his first experience at that wonderful place.
We go to our favorite place here, Last Licks, and he does the same thing, and the girls behind the counter tease him. They call him Butter Pecan instead of Dan. We asked them what the average age is for the people that order butter pecan there, and they said it's easily 83.
So Dan was able to take his picture with his fave flavor ever, and imagine my surprise when we found out it's their best selling flavor of all time. What is happening!?!?! Say it isn't so.
Then we went into a cute room where they give you whatever flavor you want to try, and we all picked winners. I think I had graham slam, which I love.
Then we went for more ice cream eating in the Ice Cream class.
We each started with our own tub of vanilla and were able to add extracts, mix-ins and sauces to our hearts' content.
June made something terrible with whole pretzels in it that she refused to mash up. Yum.
And then we left. It was a lot of fun. I should mention that we ate Taco Bell for lunch before eating several servings of ice cream at Turkey Hill, and I'm rather surprised we didn't all end up in the ER getting our stomachs pumped. No one had a lot of energy on the way home for some reason.
The next day, I took June to the doc, and sure enough, she had a hairline fracture and needed a cast. For those keeping score, this is her third cast, and she's only five. To be fair, they were all for hairline fractures which can heal without a cast, but they recommend a cast in case they fall again and do more serious damage. Upon departure from the doc, June fell on her newly-casted arm, so I think it's fair to say we made the right choice.
I'll admit I fought the cast. June LOVES having a cast, and she was begging for one, but I think they are such a pain. Oh well.
On the bright side, this was one of those rare days when I could actually manage a french braid!
You may recall that I posted recently about dressing June up for Mismatch Day at school. When she came home, she told me she was the only kid who dressed up. I asked her teacher about it later, and she said it was true. It was poorly advertised and June was basically the only kid who mismatched in her entire school.
I don't know why they would pick her when she was looking like that, but whatever. I'm still cracking up so hard. I'm sure everyone thinks we are totally crazy.
And lastly--a helmet update.
Harris is making excellent progress, as shown by these two scans.
We already took family photos but now I kind of wish we would have done them with Harris' helmet, June's cast and mismatched clothes and Gwen just running past as a blur. That would have been more accurate.