This was the first picture of the day. So much hope. Alas, it ended badly, in this and worse:
Today was terrible. Four hours, from noon to 4 p.m., were really maybe the worst parenting moments we've had together that didn't involve immediate risk to one of the boys' lives or limbs. I can't bring myself to shape the narrative for you. I will say that there were bad moods all around, the mother of all meltdowns over a broken new toy, colder and windier weather than we'd dressed for, lost Metro passes, and really, really expensive food. The Honey parents were angry islands and the older boy wailed and raged from the reflection pond all the way to the Capitol. It was bad.
My friend Candice graciously offered that all the self-flagellation leading up to the point that I called her could suffice for my penance. I was glad for that acknowledgment. And right now, as I type this, the evening looks very much like I'd have expected it to look even if the day went great—happy kids playing with each other and new Air and Space Museum toys (even the little prop plane toy with the one broken wheel). Reparations were made to relationships, and peace was restored.
Tomorrow is the zoo. It's also Daddy Honey's 36th birthday. Woody's jazzed about seeing elephants and Fox is excited about the gorillas. Daddy Honey is looking forward to dinner with his very best friend from high school, who in addition to being a terrific person, is a saucy cook. I am looking forward to a day that isn't awful, and I don't mean that facetiously; my standards are crazy low for what will make this a salvageable trip: if we can just be in this beautiful city and not be angry, I'm good.