After our great adventure in southern Utah, we headed north towards the promised land, and by that I don't mean what you think. The promised land in our house means one thing and one thing only: GIGI'S HOUSE.
I will always remember the moment on this trip when my mom first met us at the rental car drop-off place. We only had to wait a minute or two after we arrived, but the anticipation was high. Then she drove up in her happy silver honda pilot (which became our traveling companion on many excursions thereafter), got out of the car and in a happy high pitch squealed sang, "ARE THOSE MY GRAND KIDS?!?!" Soren got to her first with a great big, both hands out hug, and an even bigger smile on his face. The others followed, each feeling her love so fully, it was an awesome moment. I sure love my mom. :) We had lunch together, then headed home to THE PROMISED LAND. My dad joined us after his service at the temple, and again my kids lit up as they enjoyed the attention of wonderful wonderful bampa. We are so lucky.
Later that evening, the fun multiplied as all the cousins (with their parents) showed up to party. The following scenes in the backyard could basically be put on repeat for the next three weeks: the kids loved being out there with each other, playing bubbles or hula hoops or badminton or sliding into the pool or picking veggies from the garden or riding on the roller coaster (and on and on and on). In fact, many similar pictures are on their way. We loved spending time in that magical space.