Because there's no "my" in "Family". Oh wait, there is. Oh well.

Q: Why did the lady with two preschoolers, a springer spaniel and a trunk full of baby clothes cross the road? Or more specifically, why did she detour off the toll road, make two U-turns and a few last-minute lane changes?

A: To get to the drive through Starbucks, of course!

Q: And why did the two kids put up with the coffee break and the seven hour road trip?

A: Because this caffeine crazed Mom bought their silence with McBribery. Oh yes I did. And you better believe I played the Play Place card for the first 200 miles.

We arrived at Robin's house just after sunset in relatively good condition, full-bellied, eyes heavy yet wide. We survived the road trip without any major accidents (road or potty variety), and even incidents and arguments were limited. (Thank you again, Ronald McDee. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.)

We did have one minor dispute about whose kin was whose. Caed insisted my sister's three precious girls were HIS cousins. And Dani, despite having no earthly idea what a cousin was, insisted they were HER cousins. After a couple minutes of hearing, "No, they are MY cousins!", I broke up the verbal ping-pong and delivered a speech about brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, grandparents and cousins.

By the time we reached our destination, Caed was on board and correcting Dani, "No, these are OUR cousins." Dani still didn't get the cousins concept, let alone the sharing concept. Shocker, I know.

So we're here, and we're having a blast. I could go on and on, but nap time doesn't last long in a house with five under five. And there's that thing about wanting to spend quality time with my little sis that I never get to see.

And I know this is random, but how gorgeous is this barn? We had just detoured (on purpose) off the freeway and caught this scene as the sun was going down:
And if these pictures aren't darling, then I don't know what darling is:
And goodness gracious, would you look at the jowels on my neice? Those are some serious pinching cheeks. I'm tempted, really I am. But I don't want to get labeled as "that crazy old Aunt who pinches cheeks", so I'm refraining. For now.