Ian and I managed to run away for a night this past week. With three kids, that is no small feat. It seriously sometimes feels like moving mountains to arrange leaving three kids for just one stinking night. But it happened and it was totally worth it. We ate our weight in dinner and still managed to stuff in a dessert meant for four. We shopped. I offered to take a tourist's photo, to which Ian told her I was going to steal her phone. We walked up and down huge hills. We stayed at a nice hotel, our 1992 volvo parked with cars that cost the same as houses in Modesto. We took coffee breaks, several in fact. We ate brunch at the tiniest most cramped restaurant ever, but it didn't matter because we didn't have three squirmy kids with us. We explored new places in the city we had never been to. We met the cutest old man coffee roaster. We talked to each other without being interrupted. It was a rather magical 30 hours.
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