Saturday, July 11, 2009

In West Philadelphia, born and raised (okay, visited)

We are back from our trip, during which I drove everyone crazy by softly humming the theme from Rocky every time I thought of it, and my husband sang the intro to Fresh Prince every time we made it back to our friends' place in - you guessed it - West Philadelphia.

We also took a total of maybe eight pictures.

Based on my touristy pose in front of the Liberty Bell, that's probably a good thing.

As someone who needs her personal space, I was anxious about actually staying with our friends for three days. I have never liked staying overnight with other people. I hate the feeling that I have to be "on" all the time (even if it's not true) and I would much rather spend a wonderful day and evening with you and then retreat to a hotel, to meet you again in the morning, of course.

With the exception of the actual sleeping experience (I curse you, air mattress!) staying with our friends turned out to be just fine. I had forgotten that they are very much like me: no pressure to start sightseeing at the crack of dawn, lots of stops along the way for coffee and bathroom breaks, hours lingering over wine and good food. Good times.

It also helps that Will loves spending her own vacation with "Grammo and Papa." Every time I phoned - and I only forgot one night as we were rushing out to see a play - she would excitedly sum up her day in about three words and a vigourous goodbye. "Water! Aunt May-na! Purple! BYE!" "Pizza! Pony! Bouncy-thingie! BYE!"

She also learned how to jump, sing the entire alphabet song, and steadfastly refuse to do anything she doesn't want to do, although I'm hoping that last one is just a side effect of the transition back to normal life.

For the most part, though, it just feels right to be together and home. And if the testing is heightened, so is the cuteness. When her dad gave her a flower last night, I asked Will what she should say. Her answer? "Thank you. I love it."

It's good to be home.

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