Vacation, Day 4

One of the highlights of our trip is the complimentary breakfast that comes with staying at Whitney's Inn.  Every morning, we make the trek from our building to the main house and seat ourselves in the dining room, where we are given menus we don't actually need, since the girls have ordered the exact same thing for breakfast every single day.  Julia: chocolate chip pancakes and bacon.  Madeleine: chocolate chip pancakes and "sausiage."  This routine is so beloved by the kids that they wouldn't even hear of going out to breakfast or brunch somewhere in town, despite the fact that I'm *pretty* sure they could get chocolate chip pancakes and bacon at a variety of other breakfast joints.  The fact that we don't have to pay any extra for breakfast at the Inn is motivation enough for Ethan and I to carry out the now-familiar breakfast ritual as well.  Not only do the girls order the same breakfast every morning, but Julia insists on sitting at the exact same table, in the exact same chair, each day.  This morning when another group of people had already seated themselves at "our" table, I could see her inner struggle to accept a different seating arrangement.  Madeleine isn't as particular about where she sits, but she is insistent on requesting a very specific thing every day during her pancake eating: "Can you cut the rest of the MORE?"  Cutting the rest of the more, for those of you who are not in the know, refers to the second and third pancakes on her plate, which are not yet cut into little pieces, as we usually just cut one pancake at a time to see how much room she has in her tummy.  Inevitably, before she has even finished pancake number one, she will ask us to cut the rest of the more.  I think she feels nervous as she starts running low on cut-up pieces from pancake #1 that she will have to pause and wait for the next pancake to be cut rather than continuing to shovel piece after piece into her mouth without taking a breath.

Ethan cutting the rest of the more.

Sometimes, when there's a longer-than-usual wait for our food, as was the case this morning due to a very full dining room, the kids get a little antsy waiting for their pancakes.  Luckily, with Julia sticking her head under the tablecloth to see if Madeleine is "borefooting," and Madeleine clanging away at glass cups with her utensils while singing made-up songs, they are able to find productive ways to keep themselves occupied.  And when those tried-and-true forms of self-entertainment fail, Madeleine is sure to come up with some other way to occupy herself, like wearing her napkin on her head as a kerchief:

Anyway, enough about breakfast.  Back to our vacation adventures.  Yesterday we spent the morning in the mountains, taking the auto route up to the top of Mt. Washington.  Along the way, we stopped to admire the scenery and take a few family photos:

As we approached the mountain summit, 6000+ feet above the ground, Julia took an interest in the marked changes in terrain: no more trees, dry, coarse, straw-like grass, and mounds of rubble.  "Daddy, it's like we're on MARS!" she declared gleefully.  She was also keenly aware of the change in temperature, shivering madly once we got out of the car at the top of the mountain, to the point that we had to go into one of the gift shops to get her a long-sleeved shirt.

Mars.  Aka approaching the summit of Mt. Washington.


The view from the top was completely obscured by clouds, unfortunately, but Julia certainly didn't mind.  In her eyes, the most rewarding achievement upon reaching the summit was acquiring her brand new Mt. Washington sweatshirt:

"Mama, do you know why I'm SO EXCITED about my new sweatshirt?" she asked me, then continued on, "Because I never before had a shirt that says the name of someplace that I WENT."  She even began ruminating on whether or not she is unique in owning a souvenir sweatshirt like this, asking me later in the day, "So, Mom, do you know of any of my friends that have a shirt that says the name of a place they went to?"

Following our Mt. Washington excursion, we spent some time in the hotel pool, then drove into town to try out some mini-golf:

It was 80 degrees or so during our mini-golf game.  Julia still insisted on wearing her new sweatshirt.  She slept in it, too.

Madeleine took a very unique approach to the game of mini-golf.  She would place her ball in the tee and take a swing, often just feebly tapping the ball so that it rolled a few inches.  Not to worry, though, because her next move was to pick up the ball, run across the golf course, place the ball right next to the hole, and tap it in with her club.  And if for some reason her aim was off, no worries, she would just pick up the ball and emphatically plunk it into the hole with her hands.  Somehow she managed to win the game with her holes-in-two.  Go figure!

And now I bid you adieu and head onward into our last full day of vacation!