Man Week

As we sat in the parking lot of Sea-Tac airport, next to a sign that read "No Vehicles Over 25 Feet" (I guess I didn't learn my lesson in New Port) I looked at Carter and wondered what we would do next. Becky and Abby had just boarded a plane back to Ohio for Abby's school testing leaving us with a week to ourselves.
Since day one, when it came to planning our next step, Becky and I looked over the map and plotted the course. For the first time, it was completely up to me to choose the route. It was a strange, unfamiliar, but not altogether bad sensation. I asked Carter for input on a couple of choices, but since neither of them included McDonald's or water parks, he had little reaction.
I decided that since it was Man Week, it was important for us to see powerful waves on the coast, giant peaks, and large elk herds. It was also important that we see baseball. It seemed appropriate that I grow a beard.
Unfortunately, there isn't a Hooters at any of the National Parks that we visited, I think I'll write a congress person about that, but we managed to feel manly anyway.
We watched Ken Griffey Jr. at Safeco Field, circled the Olympic Peninsula, drove up into the snow at Mount Rainier, and studied the blast zone at Mt. St. Helens. And the whole time we ran. Carter wanted to race to everything, the RV, the next building, the sign over there, the play ground, and back to the RV. I don't know how many times we squared off, but I only won once.
Before Man Week whenever he hurt himself, he raced past me to be healed by mom. During Man Week, he had no choice, and trust me he looked. I think we learned from each other, he learned that I can help him when he gets hurt and I learned that he never gets tired of running. We ate a lot of chicken nuggets, and we played a lot of board games, and we found a new friendship.