The punk decided last weekend to treat his parents to a wonderful adventure. He booked a couple plane tickets and took us to... where else? Disneyland! We indulged in the best corn dogs in the world, sat on giant pumpkins, explored Mickey's Toontown, scared the punk to death on Pirates of the Caribbean, then made it up to him by throwing a parade during which he danced to the celebratory music and waved to all his friends: "Hi Mickey! Hi Woody! Hi Jessie! Hi Donald!" You might even say we had a magical time.
The next day, we went to the beach, where the punk discovered the greatest substance ever made... sand! Oh, sweet joy! I am sure that we could have left him right here, gone out for lobster, and returned two hours later to find him in this same position with a slightly higher pile in his pink bucket.
By the way, see that family in the background? Those are our people. We stayed with our friends the Garretts in Camarillo. They have four vibrant, kind, beautiful kids who made me wish the punk had millions of cousins instead of just one.
We stayed up into the wee hours of the morning, reveling in grown-up conversation conducted in a hot tub, and then paid for it with 6 am wake-up calls from our punk. We ate fish & chips, cinnamon rolls, Mexican pancakes, and lots of fried stuff.
Thanks, punk, for the vacation!