We said goodbye to Grandma and Grandpa in Canada...
and hit the open road. (Meanwhile every insect in the state of Montana seemed intent on hitting our window.)
Somewhere in the middle of Montana, Curtis decided he wanted to share his lunch with all of us. Unfortunately, it was the lunch he had eaten an hour or so earlier. Up it came. Horrified, I dove into the back to try to...I don't know...do something. There was nothing to be done. Driving through a teeny town we spied a hose on the ground next to cafe. The owners graciously let us soak down our son, his clothes, and his carseat and sympathized with us...while a perfectly healthy boy ran around gleefully, like this sort of thing happened every day. (Heaven forbid!)
We finally made it to Blackfoot. Though we were tired, we figured we would stop at the local hot spot and snap a photo.
We spent the evening and next morning with Grandma. She became quite a hero by letting the kids have some spiffy cowboy hats and sheriff badges.
Grandpa showed up for breakfast and also earned his own little fan club by letting them all take turns riding on his new motorbike.
Then it was time to go. Another family picture on Grandma's steps (one of these days we'll have to count how many we have there) and we were off.
Headed for home, sweet sweltering home.
