Home

When Lyla's old enough to know better, she'll never let us embarrass her by throwing down the big blanket in inappropriate places. In the above photo, we're inside an Illinois overpass oasis, blanket on the dirty tile floor. Tables and chairs surrounded us, but there we sprawled on the floor. "It's like an indoor dirty picnic," we'll say to Lyla when she's five, and she'll run off to try and find cooler parents.

Here we are a couple hours later on a grassy knoll outside of a Wisconsin gas station and McDonald's smooshed into one sad building.


Of course on the other side is Menard's, where Wisconsonites go to pray.


The only reason we made it home without Lyla banshee-wailing us into madness is because we tired her out on the dirty blanket.



We tended to other business, too.


But we made it home in just under 12 hours. Without a baby it would've taken us 8. Now it's time to sleep.