Once again we are headed east, and then south, on our mega-road trip. Eighteen minutes into the trip Wylie asked, "When are we there, Mama?" He is singularly focused on getting to Sanibel and doesn't understand all this in-between nonsense like stopping for meals and the entire state of Pennsylvania. That's all right, he'll come around once he sees all the boys to play with in Philly.
In the meantime we are wavering between laughing at his beyond-cuteness--singing a mash-up of "Let it Go" and a Jesus song to himself while playing magna tiles--and crying over his self-taught whininess. Whether or not we make it to Sanibel may depend on how easily we are able to find a child-friendly muzzle along the way...
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