Our last stop in our little vacation was also our shortest. We had an early flight out of San Francisco, so we decided to go up Wednesday afternoon- allowing us to catch some fireworks and not wake up at a gross hour Thursday morning.
We stayed at the Ritz (Allen has become a full on hotel snob...such a crying shame we all have to indulge him...), which was a mile and a half from the pier. And so, we put on our walking shoes and headed to the water. The kids were so excited to see fireworks, they forgot to complain about the walking. Sometimes they are accidentally angels.
The show did not disappoint. And the uphill hike back ensured every little being was sleepy enough to crawl into bed and instantly take off to dream land.
The kids kept saying the hotel was the white house. Because that's how we roll. Presidentially. Except not when the president is a democrat. Because that is most certainly not how we roll.
Some day we will give San Francisco the appropriate attention it deserves. Until then, we will always have the 4th of July. Which, by the way, was pretty perfect.
Let it be written: My children were all (finally!!) the perfect age for flying. They took it all in stride. No complaining, no screaming, and even some napping (bless you Tessa). I fully realize this last child will take us back to square one.
I also fully realize this last child has ensured I will not be doing any more traveling so long as she is occupying my belly. Holy rib kicker. I will be found on the couch, in my bed, or at the pool until she arrives. In two, very long, months.
Finally, our getaway was fabulous. Action-packed, dynamic, and satisfying. That said, my bed and 100+ degree temperatures have never felt better.
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