Home again, after a week at family camp in New Hampshire, followed by a few days in Vermont, where Alastair played in a folk festival. I am pleased to report that we had a really lovely time. In fact, this is the first time we've gone away with the girls that I wasn't dying to come home by the end of it. The secret: expectation management. As I mentioned in my last post, I went into this vacation with my eyes wide open, knowing it was going to be tiring and chaotic and nothing like pre-child trips of yore. But I very consciously decided not to be grumpy about this, and try, instead, to savor what is so fabulous and rewarding about having Clio and Elsa along for the ride.
Like introducing them to the wonderful game of bocce. The balls were a little too heavy for the girls to pick up, so we played a little-known, ancient variation on the game where you run up and down the bocce court waving your hands over your head and squealing, and occasionally kicking one of the balls. (It's still played this way in a certain village in Sardinia, I'm told.)
(More pictures after the jump)
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