Although our tots haven’t lived long, they’ve traveled far. Each week one or three reminds us about flying to London, training to “the queen’s castle”, or sailing on the ferry. They want to do it all again.
“Who should we take with us?” I ask Mr. Mo, just because his response is pretty cute.
“Mommy. Daddy. Elliline, Nomi.” Pause.
“YOU! OPA!”
“How about Matt?”
“Yeah!”
“And Jenny?”
“Yeah!”
“And Auntie Erin? And Uncle David?”
“Yeah, yeah!”
Of course, yeah.
Because these days there is little of that, and because our menfolk had gone hunting last weekend, we teamed up for a mini-adventure. First, donuts from Freddie’s, plus chocolate milk for ones too young to appreciate coffee. Thankfully, Freddie’s has donuts with white frosting and sprinkles.
“Did you buy all the same kind so we wouldn’t whine?” asked the one who pays careful attention to such things.
“Right you are!” answered the one stuck sitting between two car seats and trying to shuffle pastries to six people, open two chocolate milk containers, and not spill her own latte. That alone was a bonified airplane experience.
Manchester State Park provided the fresh air and autumn moisture for a jaunty stroll and muddy-puddle stomping. Five thousand boisterous sea lions provided the soundtrack and a wee bit of trepidation as we all neared the water. Maybe it was only three sea lions. We never actually caught sight of them. Sounded raucous, though.
Speaking of sound carrying across water, I hear ferries. I do. When we were dating, Opa discovered his future wife’s ability to hear the low engine rumble characteristic of a Washington state ferry, and announce its appearance before it did. It was one of those “how DOES she do that?” things. It was one of my claims to fame. Still is.
I heard it traveling westbound from Seattle to Bremerton. “The ferry’s comin!” I announced. Alas — and not for lack of hustle — we missed it for the trees and brush between us and the Sound. Mr. Mo was heartbroken.
“It’s okay!” I reassured all. “We’ll catch it on the way back. Let’s find a good spot to wait.”
We waited.
And waited. I listened. No rumble.
Finally, we moseyed. Back along the water, back to the picnic area, back to the beach. Still no ferry. Still no rumble. Opa, because he is brilliant, used his phone to check the schedule.
“Oh, yeah,” he reassured us. “It left Bremerton at 11:10, and it’s 11:18. It’ll be along any minute now.”
The tots were growing restless. I listened harder.
Finally. Taking its own sweet time, our ferry finally rumbled past. The tots waved.
Thank you, ferry boat. We waited for you, and you came. Next time, perhaps we’ll sail along with you: we’ll get some good coffee, a giant cinnamon roll or two for sharing, and we’ll be able to check one more adventure off the list for our world travelers. Who shall we take with us, Mo?