It had been a day. Over the week, I had prepped and packed Yeti so we could head down to Oregon reasonably early on Friday to meet my parents and one of my brother’s family for a weekend of camping. We made it only a few minutes before we realize that something was terribly wrong with Yeti. When we limped home, I had to 1) unpack, 2) find last-minute non-camping accommodations close to the campground, 3) figure out what to do with the bewilderingly broken RV, and 4) pack us back up in the minivan and get us on the road ASAP.
Luckily, Wes was there to heal my heart. The smooth concrete driveway has been this trickster’s friend, and he was thrilled to find out how well wheeled suitcases traveled on its surface. Funnier, completely not appropriate story, is how surprised he was when our suitcases got switched (they are identical bags in international size for our non-voyage world trip) and his started vibrating in the oddest way. Oops, I put the wrong toy in his bag, thinking it was mine. He asked a few times what that was, but I just had to keep answering that he really, really didn’t want to know. I’m still laughing.
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