We are almost entering my favorite time of year: that al-too-brief window between the end of hockey season and the beginning of baseball season where we have almost (but not really because tutor! gymnastics! dance!! cub scouts!) nothing going on.
But, my dear friends, WE ARE NOT THERE YET.
Happy Gilmore in the penalty box:
Good advice:
We squeezed a little date action into our hockey weekend, getting a babysitter and heading to watch Harry play BY OURSELVES. It was lovely. And we drank our favorite beer and the baskets of fried food and even hung out a little bit with other parents while the kids got dressed for the game even though everyone was mindful of our date, which was kind of funny.
We had such a lovely time and came home around dinner time so refreshed and rejuvenated that we took the kids out for dinner, which is usually something we hate to do.
Dorothy fell asleep eating, which was totally nostalgic because sleep eating was her THING.
And the kids were generally-- dare I say-- jolly.
The next morning we were up bright and early (the kids slept in their clothes) and armed with iPads for another full day of hockey-watching.
We had a gorgeous 40 minute drive
And a healthy breakfast
And we watched Harry play before driving like 90 minute sin the other direction to watch Cooper's last game of the season. IN WHICH HE SCORED 13 GOALS.
My teeth are not this white. For some reason, hockey rinks are SUPER FLATTERING. And yes, that is makeup all the hell over my coat collar. I KNOW.
Where's the puck? I need to find it and jam it in the net.
After the game:
'Til next year, you little animal!
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