No pictures from yesterday because it was our "big day"--Capitol Building, White House, Library of Congress. And possibly no pictures from TODAY either, because Mom made a mistake with the date! I read and reread that paper, enough times to have memorized our Congressman's office number, but still missed that it said "August 15th" at the top of the paper. *Sigh.* And thanks to a lovely man named Peter from Burlington, Washington who spent 30 minutes waiting outside Congressman Rick Larson's door with us--mildly cursing his aide and threatening to vote for his opponent of course--we had trekked a mile to the White House under some time pressure (well, we have forty five minutes! Let's get out and see the Mall!") and waited in line at the entrance gate before we realized my mistake.

Nigel melted about half way down the Mall and Zach and Alex were on the verge. Two pieces of white toast and water out of the water bottles (we were in a hurry!!) ran out about five seconds after we got the bad news. We had no food or drink, of course, because you can't take so much as a pen into the White House with you, let alone emergency rations, so we ambled down the hill, blew $10 on gatorade and pretzels, and wandered aimlessly onto a patch of shady grass to eat.

Let me pause here to say that there is a fate that has been lurking around the corners of my future most of my life. Could be genetic predisposition, or an unlooked-for inheritance from Grandpa. Usually feels like being mugged by the spirit of Scouting--in the form of four boys, Donna Hawks, my priesthood leaders. But in this case, it was benevolent. As we strolled across the grass, the back of a humble monument loomed ahead--two artistically wrapped but still mostly unclothed idealistic figures being lead by a small, determined looking boy in a scout uniform. It was the monument to the Boy Scouts, erected by Congress when they cared about the BSA, and clearly now neglected by them and 99% of all visitors to Washington DC. But (and I suppose this is the purpose of monuments) it still stands there in its shady grove waiting for people like us to trip on it.

And waiting in a tree just behind it, 15 feet up and dangling like fate on a branch, was a bright pink Aerobie. It cost about half our gatorade bottles (Mom: Could we please drink those before we throw them into the tree? Dad and boys: Nice idea, Mom, but we need the weight.) but of course we did eventually get it down, and it saved our day. After about 20 minutes of wild Aerobie playing, the entire family was restored to cheerfulness and we went off to gaze at Megaladon teeth and the Hope diamond at the Museum of Natural History (which was the closest).

Yes, we spent $50 on food at the Prehistoric Cafe, and several hours in the museum did reduce several of the kids to zombie state, but Tim made it all worth it.

Mom: What was your favorite thing about today, Tim.

Tim: (*sigh*, ecstatic gaze) Oh....everything. This was the best day of my life. I imagined what it would be like, but I never dreamed that it would be this great.

I will never forget the sight of him lying in the middle of Whistler's "Peacock Room," gazing at the ceiling and never wanting to leave.

So I've spent too long on this now, and that's going to make it another rush out the door! Fortunately I stocked up at Costco yesterday, and Jonathan and Gillian are here--we're planning to make them pay for it by carrying our lunch!--so if nothing else, we should be well fed today!