I must be crazy.

I must be crazy.

Gamma with Ruthie and the newly born larvae.

I swore I would never take my kids on an airplane again after this memorable trip. But I suppose that’s a lofty promise to make when both sides of your family are on opposite ends of the country.

A couple months ago my sister, who lives in Iowa – four hours from my mother, called to say she had an idea that she wanted to ‘just throw out there.’ At that moment I knew her idea involved me and an airplane. She was sending two of her kids out here to visit our dad, she said, and was planning to hang out in Minneapolis while they were out here, she said, and wouldn’t it be great if you and the kids could visit Minneapolis while I’m up there?

Hell no, was my first answer. She had asked me too soon following the Great Airplane Barfing Incident.

But lo, when family calls one must consider an answer beyond Hell No. So today I am not only boarding an airplane with my children, but I will be outnumbered by them, as Bryan will not be joining us.

I really must be crazy.

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