Tag Archives: travel

My vacation in handcuffs

So we took the family to Washington, D.C. and this happened.

the middle one did it

“That’s him, officer! The pitiful-looking one with the puppy dog face!”

Though this is not a real police lineup, there were several times during the week when I wished he were in police custody so that the rest of us could enjoy our vacation in peace. At the attraction where this picture was taken, his aunt bought him a set of toy handcuffs. For the rest of the day, including the duration of our visit to the Air and Space Museum, he handcuffed me to random objects. He could have done us all a favor by handcuffing Buster to the stroller, but Buster’s wrists are too small to really pinch painfully in toy handcuffs. And it’s no fun wielding the authority vested in shackles if you can’t cause pain with it.

Buster spent the bulk of his vacation chasing Big Brother and screaming for the latter’s toy handcuffs. Buster can bust out one hell of a shriek when a brother doesn’t surrender the toy he wants. I’m sure some fellow hotel guests can back me up on this. But his parents did a pretty good job of keeping the high notes contained within normal waking hours. Those kids you heard yelling in the halls all night were a totally separate group of poorly raised children.

New Baby did an admirable job of keeping himself quiet at night. The long days of touring the city made him sleep hard, followed by some hard waking up in the morning. None of us boys in the family wake up easily, and by the looks of things, New Baby will be no exception.

morning

“Oh my God! Where am I?”

always morning

“What time is it?”

morning still

“I did what last night?”

glorious morning

“Oh man! Could I ever use a milk toddy right now.”

After finishing the difficult work of waking up in the mornings, we spent our days seeing the sights, some familiar, some new. But for all the things we saw, the best part of this trip was discovering that D.C. has some pretty decent pizza.

I am a northeast native, living in a Midwestern world. The people here have learned not to speak to me of pizza unless they wish to unleash the condescending snob within. I can find merit in all things Midwestern, except pizza. It hurts my heart whenever I hear Big Brother say, “I love Domino’s pizza.” If he only knew.

It never occurred to me that D.C. would be the first step in his education. Who knew they’d have pizza reminiscent of the northeast? All of us, even picky little Buster, ate and ate and ate many delicious slices. And nobody’s mouth found a leisure moment to blaspheme the holy meals with talk of Domino’s. There is hope for us yet.

After my traditional confrontation with one of the conscientious workers inside a subway booth, it was time to come home. I guess I won’t have to worry about overdosing on pizza again for a while.

After carting three kids around the big city for a week, the wife and I could sure use a vacation.

Mr. Washington’s sauna

When I asked my son if he wanted to visit Mr. Washington’s house, he asked what any righteous four-year-old would. “Can we go to Mr. Lincoln’s house instead?”

Though his priorities were above reproach, I was left with the sad duty of explaining to him that Mr. Lincoln’s house is in Illinois and we were going to Virginia. Once he understood how harsh geography had robbed him of his first choice, he agreed that Mr. Washington’s house would be a fine substitute.

I like Mount Vernon. It is interesting and beautiful. It is also on a hill in Virginia – an important consideration if you are visiting in the heart of summer with small children.

Mount Vernon front gate

A beautiful home, if you can make it there before you melt.

I guess the area around Mount Vernon is called Northern Virginia to trick people into thinking it might not be hellishly hot there in July. I won’t be fooled again. In fact, I am rethinking my January beach volleyball plans in South Dakota.

Mr. Washington built his house on a hill overlooking the Potomac. It was a good idea for someone with a horse to carry him back up the hill every time he wanted to go dip his toes into the water.

Potomac wharf

It looks like a carousel but there are no horses. Just like there are no horses to carry you back up the hill. Psych!

Many interesting parts of the estate are downhill from the main house. My wife and I didn’t have any horses to carry us back up the hill in the stifling heat. Fortunately, our boys did. They had a couple of plodding nags, affectionately called Mommy and Daddy.

My wife had the foresight to bring the double stroller. I’d wanted the single. While the little guy could only be expected to toddle odd bits of the greater Washington area, I argued that the big boy could do his own walking. It was no smooth sailing, pushing that cart loaded with 65 pounds of childhood up dirt paths, but without it, my four-year-old and I would still be on the banks of the Potomac, arguing about how he was going to be transported up the hill.

Mount Vernon carriage

This belonged to Mr. Washington, but I could swear I pushed my boys up that hill in it a few times.

By the time we toured the main house, everyone was tired and sweaty. I have observed that tired, sweaty kids are not always on the their best behavior. If Mr. Washington’s spirit happens to flit around the halls of his home, he has now observed it too.

Mr. Washington’s house is full of interesting knick-knacks. He, and anyone truly devoted to preserving his legacy, would certainly want a curious child to try to touch them all. Undoubtedly, he would encourage such a child to stray from his group and open any door that might have been closed against the public by mistake.

Mount Vernon overseer cabin

Washington’s overseer had sense enough to barricade the doorway of his cabin so the young’uns couldn’t get into his things.

Mr. Washington was a good marketer. This was the man who slyly wore a military uniform to the meeting where they were going to pick out an army commander-in-chief. This strategic thinking persists at Mount Vernon, where the gift shop straddles the park exit and beguiles weary tourists with its air conditioning.

We did not buy any souvenirs, but I cannot tell a lie: a one-year-old I know might have rearranged the display of some of the trinkets in the store.

The river looks so beautiful, cool, and inviting. Ignore it and go to the gift shop. That's the trap with the air conditioning.

The river looks so beautiful, cool, and inviting. Ignore it and go to the gift shop. That’s the trap with the air conditioning.