Taryn's summation of our weekend (her journal assignment): When i Woke up my mom said we have speshle plans. and we went to ant janet's howes. and we went to george woshingtin's howes. and i playd a game cald shot the boX.
Living in the DC area, we were surrounded by so many opportunities and we didn't take most of them. But there was this one day that we went to Mount Vernon and toured the property while some kind of festival or other was taking place on the lawn. There were all kinds of demonstrations of different historical activities.
That's a man acting as a rat catcher, with a real live rat in his trap. Foreshadowing of Taryn's current pet rat adventure? Maybe.
They liked the drumming, but hated the guns going off.
I don't remember it, but apparently there were horseback rides. I found some old pictures I'd saved from Tim's phone.
This is the Potomac River. Bodies of water make me mega nervous but one of my parenting goals is to let my kids develop their own anxieties rather than just copy mine.
I remember being pretty impressed with the hands on history play room. Those costumes are more detailed than usual kids' costumes and they tie in the back so they go on and off really fast. I also had a weird experience that temporarily made me consider blogging again, in fact, I may have started a blog and then deleted it because it isn't in my history.
A few days later, I shared the following story with Facebook:
So last Saturday we're at Mount Vernon and there are people from all over the world gathered there learning stuff and seeing the pretty stuff. It's all very exciting. And this lady is trying to subtly catch my eye and finally leans in and asks "Where are you from?" And I always stutter a bit because I'm not sure how much information the person is really asking for, but I temporarily forget that this in international crowd and the woman could be from anywhere, so I say "Andrews" and she doesn't know what that means and so I have to explain "Andrews, Air Force Base....Maryland....it's practically next door." And when she's finally managed to tack "She's from around this local area" into her mind she's so traumatized by the fact that she just struck up a conversation with a stranger that she abruptly walks off. A few minutes later she's giving me that funny look again and just blurts out "How old are you??!?!?" I'm thinking "What on earth?" but I just say "30" with a bit of a shrug. And then she's just gushing on about how she's from California and she's never met anyone with grey hair before and she thinks that people should just learn to age gracefully.
I do have one lovely picture that Tim took of me a few weeks after this incident, which shows off how grey my hair was and wasn't at the time. It's the very best kind of picture. The kind you always hope someone will take to really immortalize you at your very best.
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