So Monday morning dawns gray and dreary, with threats of showers in the air. The grands are cranky from the lack of play time, so any thought by Grandpa of getting on the road early is quashed by the mothers-that-be. Nevertheless, despite their best efforts, we had the show on the road in two vehicles by noon time. Destination: University of Pittsburgh's Natural History Museum.
An hour's drive and a minor crisis when the person giving directions gets turned around by traffic, but we get there, only to find that the museum is CLOSED ON MONDAYS...
Hmm, what to do? Off to the Pittsburgh Children's Science Center, but the realization that it would cost nearly $100 for just the kids and only one of them is old enough to truly appreciate the exhibits leads us to seek out other entertainments, in the form of the Pittsburgh Children's Museum, where the remainder of the afternoon is spent climbing, painting, getting wet, getting dry, and in my case, getting hurt. With the sole exception of the aformentioned injury, everyone had fun.
A stop for a big meal at a local restaurant put most in mind of a nap. Here's where it gets interesting. Daughter No. 2, the one who lives in New Castle and knows her way around, decides we need to see some really cool rock formations in a nearby state park. We agree that rock formations are right up our adult alley and off we go, as instructed by the Mighty D2. Twenty minutes later, as the Ohio border approaches, D2 admits she hasn't a clue where she is or how to get home! Seems she has inherited SWMBO's* lack of direction.
Forty minutes later, I find a landmark that is familiar from our visit to Boardman, Ohio the night before and we are on the way home. All thoughts of side trips to see the pretty rocks are by now forgotten with the advent of dusk and the nightly ritual of turning on the headlights.
Evening consists of a blur of grandchildren wildly playing (indoors, due to rain) while parents and grandparents attempt to converse. Eventually, despite many diversions and side skirmishes, the grand children were bedded and the Mrs. and I headed off to the motel to sleep the sleep of the dead.
This grandparenting is tiring business!
*For those who've already forgotten, SWMBO = "She Who Must Be Obeyed," i.e. my wife. Blame "Rumpole of the Baily" for my getting into the habit of calling her that.
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