Shangri-La

Despite the morning mayhem that kerfuffle might suggest, Ted has just informed Julie that the bambini have, of late, been donning their coats, hats, gloves or mittens, and shoes without excessive reminders that culminate in someone--a parent--fulminating about how departing the house in the morning is like mounting a military campaign with one sock and shoelace.  (That's the sort of nonsense that comes out of your mouth when you are trying to maintain forward momentum toward an on-time departure in the morning with an almost-five-year-old and almost (even more!)-three-year-old.)  Ted reports that sometimes, the bambini announce that they're ready to go, and he isn't ready!  Apparently, we should be renaming Raleigh House Shangri-La because it is all la-di-da around here in the morning's final departure push.

It only took all winter.  They're set for the season the only they they need to put on to leave besides underwear and clothes are Crocs.  Perfect.

(Really, we strongly suspect that the impetus for the newfound ability to move swiftly and deliberately through the final make-ready-to-leave tasks is Joe's desire to race out the door first; reach the front gate, open it, and go through it first; and reach the car first--hopefully with enough time to climb up on the back gate and peer over it at the slow pokes who follow.  The Raleigh House name change may be short lived once the shine wears off of all that.)