We headed down to Kansas City the other day, to visit some family.
While there, we relished my sister-in-law's fantastic cooking (how is it that my kids have so many aunts and family friends who are great cooks? I have some catching up to do. That fish was simple but simply delicious.)
We also went here,
to Kauffman Stadium, where Atticus received his birthday present: watching his beloved Yankees play the KC Royals. (The best gift would've been watching the Yankees play in Yankee Stadium, but that's not in our birthday budget at present. And, sadly, A-Rod did not add to the festivities by hitting his 500th home run that night. Still, it was the Yankees ....)
Perhaps the real gift was that I sat with my husband through this game, in extremely hot weather, with the sun blazing in our faces for the first two hours or so, and I did not complain. Hey, now ... that may not sound like much of a gift to most of you. It may seem like nothing more than what any good wife would do. Well, yeah. But what you are not aware of is my deepest, innermost feelings about the heat. So, my cheerfulness was, in reality, a true gift (if I do say so myself. )
The next day, it was my turn. We visited the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art. Here are all the kids at the entrance:
Although Ramona couldn't fully appreciate it ("This is a Mommy Day, when Mommy gets everything she wants," she whined), it was quite a treat. Especially when Atticus's sweet sister (an accomplished Mommy herself, and a keen discerner of near-meltdown in five-year-olds) very kindly offered to take Ramona to the fountain, where she could toss pennies to her heart's content, while Atticus and I meandered through the sublime and the beautiful. Thank you, dear sister-in-law. That, too, was a gift.
I was especially thrilled to see this amazing Caravaggio, Saint John the Baptist in the Wilderness:
We topped the day off with Uno's pizza and hot fudge sundaes, and Ramona was no longer complaining.
Good food, good company, and a nephew who inspired Betsy with his talent for climbing the walls like Spiderman ... could you ask for more from a trip to Kansas City?
Well, maybe just one thing ... baseball in the fall. Without the July sun.
Not that I'm complaining.