The weekend started off with a bounce.
And another:
And about five hundred more that followed.
Chestertown was at its festive best. Free (and endless) bouncing was to be had via a colorful inflatable parked in the courthouse lawn.
I was asked to take care of Alden’s tiara while she jumped herself silly.
I forgot it was there as we walked around town and talked to various adult people over the next half hour or so. No wonder no one here takes me seriously.
After bouncing, we dropped the kids off with our friends Donald and Ann and hit the road. Our destination, Washington. Along the way, we stopped for a nutritious meal.
Runners prepare for a challenge by eating carbs. Robbi gets ready with char-broiled beef. 
It was a gorgeous day. The sky was blue and the bay was calm.
Our spirits were high as we drove across the bridge.
Our GPS routed us around traffic into parts of DC we’d never seen before.
Our destination was DC’s preeminent independent bookstore, Politics and Prose
It was exciting to see our books on display at the front of the store.
It was exciting to see our friend/subscriber/fan? Lindsay show up early to say hello and browse the back catalog.
And it was exciting to gaze out from the podium at 3:20pm, wondering whether we’d have more than one person in attendance when we started speaking ten minutes later.
As it turned out, we had more than one peson. But somewhat fewer than 300, which is, apparently, the standing room capacity of P&P events.
We were delighted with the happy medium, a blend of old friends and new faces. We gave our talk, we read our latest Idiots’Book The World in Love, and we answered a few questions. We would have kissed babies or signed body parts if anyone had asked us to. Alas, nobody asked us to.
We were pleased to reunite with our friend Sarah Baline who oversees events for P&P and with whom we spent a soggy (but thrilling) day at Crafty Bastards a few years back.
After the show, we headed out with our friends (including Alden’s pal Iris) for dinner.
At one point, I threatened to eat Iris’s chicken fingers, which looked far more delicious than my fish tacos.
Iris made it clear that it wasn’t going to happen.
A belly full of fish tacos, we drove home again across the bridge, and collapsed into bed.
Today was cold in Chestertown, surprisingly so. We have told you before about our family excursions on which I push August in a jogging stroller while Robbi piles Kato and Alden onto a frankenstein bike. Wondering if August had gotten big enough to handle himself in a bike-mounted booster seat, we ordered another and set to modifying our bikes to accommodate the new setup.
Of course, we needed a helmet for him as well. At first, I wondered if they would make helmets small enough for his head.
And then I remembered that his head is the size of a planet and wondered if they would have one large enough.
As it turns out, they did, big helmets for big-headed kids, labeled as such.
While Robbi and I worked with the wrenches, Alden wrote lovely messages on the sidewalk.
I wonder what it is they want from me? A raise in allowance? The keys to the car? Whatever it is, I’m game. This kind of thing makes my heart melt in a great big puddle.
The love was well-timed. I needed a little lift. It took us about two hours and many misfires to work out all the mechanics and hardware. I’m sure it shouldn’t have been as complicated as it seemed at the time, but I’m a writer, forgodsake.
All the while, Iggy watched from the bushes, doing her best to blend in to her unnatural environment.
And then, finally, it was time for our first ride.
We did a lap around Wilmer Park and then took the bike path to the end. On the way back, we drove through the College.
And back through town, Kato between my legs and Alden behind.
Robbi had August on the other bike.
And so it is confirmed: we have officially graduated to the point where we can go on longish bike rides together. Today was but a glimpse of the adventuring to come.
Not a bad weekend. A very good one, in fact.
