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It’s the first day that the kids reaaaaaaaly sleep in. Sarah’s parents knock on our adjoining door to let us know that it’s 9am and they’re heading off to breakfast. Veronica wakes first but we have to shake the other two awake. (We’d let them keep sleeping but they’d be outraged if they missed a minute of the kids’ club.) We get mobilized, shove in breakfast, and the kids are off to where they want to be. I go to the gym, which I’m totally loving, by the way. I realize that my models of fitness are changing. Once upon a time, I wanted to have Brad Pitt’s physique. But I’m getting into my mid-40s and I’m looking more and more into the future. Now, I see these fit, old people and I think I want to be them one day. That’s right. You: wildly-bearded octogenarian running laps. You: grizzled older broad into you sixtieth minute on the elliptical. I want to be you.

Between kids’ club and kids’ club, the savages get caught up on homework and then reluctantly shower. I catch up on blogging. It’s a pretty low-key, low-energy day. Dinner is fine. For fun, I use the menu to pick Sarah’s dad’s dinner from hell. The appetizer would be a Roasted Carrot Cumin Salad followed by Eggplant Parmesan and ending with an Artisanal Cheese Plate. He agrees and says, “Ugh, gag me. Now watch what Maria orders…”

After dinner, the kids’ go back to kids’ club. We have coffee then hang in our rooms, barely holding onto consciousness while we wait for the kids to let us put them to bed.
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