The Cool Fam is getting their summer plans together, which may include a trip or two west, and, if Cool Newbie gets his wish, to Super Why’s “Book Club” headquarters. Honestly, that sounds pretty fun except that I’d feel awkward socializing with Alpha Pig, knowing how much bacon I’ve consumed over the years.
What about you — any cool summer plans in the works? Specifically, are any Cool Readers visiting New York City, whether for fun, mission trip or representing your nation state at a U.N. General Assembly?
Our packed-full storage unit.
Cool Mum is currently reading The Story of the World, a history book for children, to Cool Boy to launch his classical homeschool education. Chapter One is titled ‘The Earliest People’, and it starts off with three questions:
Where do you live? Where do you sleep? Do you sleep in the same bed every night, or do you move into a new house every week?
At the end of our last update, CB’s answers would have been:
“Um…New York? We just made a reeeally long drive from Florida, and I’m not sure.”
“Wherever Mommy and Daddy tell me to. Right now it’s a bed in Long Island.”
“We move into a new house every day!” Continue reading
When we last checked in, we were in the sunny climes of Florida, spending time with family and friends while we talked and prayed at length about moving back to Manhattan. In the middle of February, we flew up to NYC to attend our friends’ wedding. During the trip, we stayed with friends on the Upper East Side and researched what the rents were like in the neighborhood compared to when we moved away in 2010.
I’d like this blog to not turn into BuzzFeed, but this GIF sums it up nicely:
Rents have been exploding. One friend told us their monthly rent has increased by $1,000 over the last few years. We found out that one of our old apartments was actually coming available. It was $300 more per month than when we lived there. Our dream of returning to the Upper East Side took a serious nuking. Continue reading
While working at my favorite coffeeshop today, I’m throwing glances over to the counter, to the dome of glass that sheltered what was a half-loaf of chocolate banana bread when I got here. With AM turned to PM, there might be a slice left. It’s hard to tell since the remnant has fallen facedown on the plate without its siblings to lean on, resigned to its fate. I really want to eat it, but I’m resisting because of my dang spare tire. Continue reading
When I was deciding whether to go to NYC, I asked Cool Newbie what he thought I should do.
CD: “Micah, should I leave?”
This was expected. I’m the family’s DJ for impromptu dance parties, and I provide valuable Lego building assistance. Unless I’m ending TV time or putting him into timeout, Newbie likes having me around. I explored his train of thought.
CD: “Why not?”
CN: “Because…you’re my daddy.”
I could’ve sworn someone was chopping onions. The way he said it – in his nasal, raspy voice – broke my heart. For him, it was simple: I’m his daddy; of course I shouldn’t go anywhere. Like, come on, Daddy…duh.
When my client meeting was scheduled in the city, the decision to go was easier. But I continue to ask him “Should I leave?” even if I’m not going anywhere. I just want to hear him say, “No…you’re my daddy,” a reminder of where I should be if ever I wonder.