The danger of road trips

Once again Tom and Edith went away for the weekend together, to Mom-mom and Pop-pop's house, so I could get some dissertation work done. We introduced Edith to miniature golf on Father's Day (sorry there are no pictures--the course was packed, and we had to keep moving), and she loved it, so she was eager to go play with the real family aficionados.

But when they returned I heard more about her conversations in the car with Daddy than about the golfing. Including,

"There are going to be five kids in our family."

"Oh, yeah?! Says who?"

"Me and Daddy."

She then went on, "Their names will be Harriet Tubman, Torrey, Harry, and Forty."

[Ed. note: I think the last one was Forty; the only defense of such a name is that it would be better than Farty, which may have been what she was really saying.]

This dissertation absolutely needs to get finished in the next five weeks, but deadline or no, I'm going to have to think hard about letting Edith and Tom have any more alone time.