As has been documented, the kids and I are in Missouri. Which is not to be mistaken for being in misery. Quite the opposite. Missouri is quite nice, especially when one is staying at my Dad and Judy’s house, which is entirely surrounded by trees and has lots of nice windows through which to gaze upon them.

Alden and Kato, being on East Coast time, decided to get up quite early yesterday morning.

This might have been miserable if the grandparents hadn’t been so prepared. Two bowls of shredded mini wheat and a handful of blueberries later, and all was well.

The kids felt incredibly welcome.

Welcome to make art.

Welcome to read books in the sunshine.

Welcome to gaze out upon the Midwestern splendor.

Lest you think Kansas City is all glamor, this is where I spent my day yesterday. Make no mistakes about it: I’m here to get work done while my children luxuriate in Kansas City’s version of Club Med.

Dad and Judy are taking the day shift, but I’m still on duty for the early mornings.

Which is why I’m sitting here with August while he contemplates whether to eat blueberries or the baseball.

And Kato, as he scowls his way through the mixed berry platter.

Now that we are vaguely acclimated to Kansas City, we are going deeper into the story of my origins. Today we’ll drive north. Our destination: Fremont, Nebraska, to visit my grandma. My dad was born in a small town in Nebraska, and tomorrow, we’re having a large-scale family reunion with his three brothers and their families.

Here’s the three-generation shot we took yesterday.

This afternoon, we’ll have four generations of Swansons on display.