Go North, Young Man

“Daddy, we don’t eat poop. We don’t suck on dog poop!”

It was with this pearl of childhood wisdom that Andrew wrapped up our ten day tour of Minnesota. I’ve been scouring my brain for the last few days, trying to glean together an idea of where he may have heard that advice. Perhaps he was remembering our previous trip North, when a tenant of the Brookfield gorilla house entertained his audience by consuming that which should not be consumed. Perhaps it was something he heard while exploring Uncle Denny’s farm. Or perhaps this is just one piece of wisdom that every child eventually realizes . . . their little brain piecing together information. For your entertainment pleasure, I have recreated the thoughts leading up to this gem. I imagine it went something like this . . . I like suckers . . . suckers are from Chuck E. Cheese . . . I get to go there when I poo poo in the potty . . . there’s a big gorilla at Chuck E. Cheese . . . I saw a gorilla eat his poo poo . . . I like suckers . . . I like gorilla’s . . . . I like . . wait a minute . . . “Daddy, we don’t eat poop!!!”

It would be all too easy for that to be the only thing I remember from our trip. Fifteen years from now, it may be all that is left, but only two days removed I still recall enough to perhaps make an interesting blog.

We had two major events to go to in Minnesota; Mollie’s friend was getting married one Saturday in Eastern MN and her great-grandmother’s 90th birthday party was the next weekend in Southwestern MN (editor's remark: Mollie reminds me it was her grandmother and our children's great). With the road North being the longest part, there was only one logical thing to do . . . spend the included week perusing the rest of the state.

I have just decided that a play by play recount would likely bore even myself, so here’s the Cliff’s notes. Went to wedding – Congrats Shari, avoided tornados, went to Duluth, saw some guy jump out of a 60 foot tree into a small lake, went to a Twins game, saw a big salt-water fish tank, ate too many cookies at great-grandma’s, spent a night in South Dakota, again avoided tornados, went to birthday party, drove back to Illinois for another b-day party and to pick up Samwise Fingolfin 3 (the beagle dog), then home to Springfield.

While you are busy thanking me for not turning all that into six paragraphs, I shall continue with a few notables. Our trip home was kind of a play-it-by-ear adventure. We had thoughts of either meeting my parents on the road to pick up The Dog, or driving to their house and catching my cousin’s 12th(?) birthday party. Leaving Southwestern Minnesota at 8 PM, both options likely included stopping at a hotel along the way when the drive outlasted our eyes. But nine hours and over two liters of caffeine later, I was still driving and we were pulling into my parent’s driveway.

Apart from all that what to eat and what not to eat nonsense from earlier, I’m having a difficult time keeping this blog from sounding like an entry in my diary (not that I have a diary, but this is how I imagine people write in a diary – Dear diary, today I got my first tooth. Momma told me to . . . why am I writing from the point of view of someone who is writing as they get their first tooth . . . infants can’t keep a diary . . . . back to reality, please.) I was considering listing all the people we saw on our journey, the number is rather astonishing what with two birthday parties that served more like family reunions, but I think I have enough boring information crammed into this week’s blog. I mean, can you imagine reading what would essentially be a list of people you don’t know?

I guess that’s it for this week. Being only Tuesday, I have a slight hope that I’ll sit down tomorrow and revise what I wrote. However, if you currently find yourself bored and not even the slightest bit confused, then I found no further inspiration and you’ve been stuck with what I wrote today. Of course, you always have next week’s blog to look forward to. Next week’s topic promises to thrill and excite. The title will be based on a valuable life lesson I plan on teaching Andrew this week . . . “Don’t eat yellow snow.”