Well, not really, but maybe. If you people ever want to see Burrito again, get ready for a looooong plane ride.
Maui was beautiful. Well, no, that's not right. Of course it was beautiful. Everyone knows that. But it was better than that.
Part of this is because I shot an 85 at the Kapalua Village course. His handicap is down to 14.0. I know all of you care, so I will describe my round in detail. Okay, I will not describe my round in detail, but I will post the picture of my 185-yard 4-iron that stopped 2 inches from the pin.Eric played golf 3 times. Joyce tagged along for the Kapalua round, as the course is located in a bird sanctuary. Here's the scene: Eric and Joyce are both focused on birdies. Harmony in marriage. Only, one is using these silly little binoculars, one is using his new Taylor Made r7 driver.
We drove to Hana in the 2005 Ford Mustang convertible that Eric insisted on renting. Eric is scheduling his midlife crisis early such that he can relive his youth and the memories of his first car. Once we got to Hana, we did not do what everyone else does and turn around. Not us! We chose to violate the rental agreement and off-road it around the bottom of Haleakala. Fun! The car survived just fine, thank you. We snorkeled at Molokini, ate ridiculously good food, and, well, drove around some more, getting thoroughly hooked on pleasant Hawaiian music. We did all the tourist things there are to do on Maui, including biking down the volcano. Biking is the wrong word. While these were certainly bikes, and had pedals, the pedals were useless. Biking down worked like this: coast, brake, turn, repeat for 38 miles.
John did fabulously in our absence. We are so encouraged by this that the concept of "child abandonment" is seriously creeping into our minds. He had a great time house-hopping, and rolled with the disruptions to his schedule with minimal problem.
His language is also starting to take another leap forward. His "why?" questions, while still incessant, are at least more focused. He's asking more nuanced questions (such as "Why did that fire truck go through the red light?"). His reasoning skills have greatly improved, and he's taking an interest in how words are spelled.
He still, though, thinks he is a train. He will occasionally greet new people with a toot of his horn. We're not kidding. "Hi, I'm Eric, and this is John. John, say hi." "Toot toot!"
At least he's cute.
The other big news in John's world is dental. At his last checkup, they found a cavity. They tried to give him laughing gas to fill it, but he absolutely refused. He kicked, screamed, and pulled the mask away. Sooooooo, we went to the hospital. To fill a cavity.
This happened last week. We went to the hospital. He hated it. Very scared. Crying, kicking, more crying. Hated the parade of doctors and nurses. Really didn't like it with the dentist showed up. However, it was well worth it. He did not have a cavity. He had EIGHT cavities. Let that sink in a second. Eight.
How did that happen? Part of it is because he inherited dad's teeth, which means that his baby teeth came in early, and the molars had soft pits. Thus, like dad was as a kid, he was susceptible to cavities in his baby teeth. This was compounded by the fact that our toothbrushing routine is unchanged from infancy. He wouldn't try to use fluoride toothpaste. So, if you ever wonder if you could get by on cool-tasting infant toothpaste forever, let us dispel that line of thought.
The best part of this, though, came after surgery. In the "better living through chemistry" theme, they gave John an "amnesiac." That evening, he did not remember what he had done that day. Did not remember the hospital. Did not know why he had a band-aid on his arm or adhesive electrodes on his chest. What a relief. We were so afraid that his hospital visit would make future doctor visits all the harder.
Even better: this week, we used fluoride toothpaste. The trick is that it's fun to spit!
