The front of the store has all kinds of model trains running. You sit on benches and watch them.
Time of their lives! They look like those creepy black-and-white Hallmark kids. Of course, then Lyla began to feel extra affectionate.
Then we went out for ice cream.
When the younger kid is two-and-a-half (versus last summer's one-and-a-half), everything is easier. Ice cream, for instance, isn't the sticky mushroom cloud catastrophe it once was. Now it merely involves getting them both seated and giving the boy a couple pointers. "Don't tilt it. Try to keep it out of your hair." That's it. We just sat there and existed, me hardly paying attention. It was good.
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