This morning, The Dad left for 6 days in San Francisco. I’m jealous. Although I love my life in Chicago, I’ve been missing San Francisco a lot lately. For me, San Francisco is inextricably linked to life before children. It’s not just The City’s great restaurants that appeal to me these days, it’s getting to eat a leisurely dinner at 8 p.m. in one of them.
The Tot, The Girl, The Boy, and I brought The Dad to the airport, took The Girl to ballet class (and had Starbucks with Allison and her boys), and then managed to find parking near our playgroup friend’s place to have a Saturday playgroup. It was R.’s birthday, so we had lunch, cake, ice cream, and the kids even beat a pinata open (a silly gift from a silly friend of R.’s). We saw our Italian playgroup friends, who we hadn’t seen since August 2007. Rather unusually for him, The Tot sat on S.’s lap for quite awhile during lunch.
I had planned to take The Boy over to the lakefront to see the air show, but The Girl didn’t want to go, and The Tot would have been frightened by the noise/people/constriction, so we went home instead.
We got home around 3 and were pretty much slugs for the rest of the afternoon.