27 December 2011

We went on a family vacation and all I got was this amazing memory


When I was little my parents traveled a lot. Some times they would take me. Often they didn't. They would always bring back a souvenir such as a stuffed animal or perhaps a t-shirt that read, "My parents went to the Bahamas and all I got was this lousy t-shirt." In my parents defense their trips were often work related (Bahamas is the perfect meeting place for closing a deal) and often interfered with my schooling (which is why I now homeschool). This past fall we loaded up the family wagon-mobile and hit the racy town of Williamsburg. Not the Bahamas. We traded in our tiki torches for candle sconces and our sandy shores for cobblestone streets. Ahh. We, ahem, I loved it! The under 12 crowd loved the rocking hotel where we stayed that rivaled a CrackerBarrel with a serious indoor water park. The magic of Williamsburg was lost. Or was it? The last day of our great family vacation, my husband had to drive back to the city from whence we came. I was left with 4 boys and a cipher guide that mimicked that of Ben Gates ala National Treasure. Now let me stop right here to explain something about myself. I can find the most obscure treasure in a thrift store, but reading ciphers is not my forte-especially as the lead in a quaint colonial village with an unruly, raucous, peanut gallery bunch of wise crackers. But we Silence Dogood-ed our way to the "Quest for Freedom" where we chanted with the other victors. We wore our blue bandanas proudly as we were awarded golden coins for bravely stopping a plot to end the life of the first Continental president's life. O, what a memory we made. Imagine my glee when we were summarizing our year end's high points and the 10 year old said, "My favorite part of 2011 was "Rev Quest", the silly little cipher scavenger hunt of which I write. So, they really are enjoying these broadening ventures disguised as family vacations. It may not be the Bahamas, but those Colonists sure know how to make a mean ale.

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