My girl is not good at sharing a bed. Thrashing, turning, and kicking, she made for a rough night. In addition, I had a horrible nightmare about her drowning the Wee Boatswain. Upon waking, she was ready to go swimming and had to be reminded of last night’s behavior–and this morning’s consequences.
Another breakfast in the room with peanut butter sandwiches, apples, and sugary cereal for us all. It’s somewhat of a nice surprise to discover Granuaile doesn’t seem to like junky cereal. We packed the car and headed for Pittsburgh.
We enter from the south, driving through a fair amount of the city to get to the Duquesne Incline. The driving is kind of nutty–fast, crowded city driving through narrow, twisty, hilly streets. When we get to the Incline, it’s time to nurse WB again, which I do in the car right outside.
There’s not much to the incline, but it’s thrilling enough for our needs. There’s a hot and sunny observation deck, overlooking downtown and the three rivers’ confluence. Most of the deck is full of young men, jockeying to appear in each other’s photos. I carry WB in my arms, visions of him falling over the guardrail to his doom.
The incline itself is nifty (for a given value of nifty)–two rattly wooden cars that sail slowly up and down the hill all day. Our ride down is crowded, but G loves it. At the bottom, we get out, cross the bridge over the freeway, look around, then go back up–on the way up it’s just us in the car. Us and the morning’s admission receipts in a lockbox. Down and up–pretty fun for just a few dollars.
Given that it’s Memorial Day, we can’t find any restaurants open nearby for lunch. We don’t have a good map of the city, so we just head for home. We stop for lunch at yet another Eat ‘n Park, which scores G another smiley cookie. We stop only a few more times for gas, bathrooms, caffeine. I nurse WB in a gravel lot while the Cap’n and G kick around a soccer ball. I nurse WB at a truck stop while the Cap’n and G climb hills and pick wildflowers.
We get home around 6PM. WB is hungry again, of course, and he’s ready to go to bed for the night. G is restless, cranky, and ready to pick a fight. The house smells like cat pee, but it’s good to be home.
And best of all, as of today, the Cap’n and I have been married for seven years. And thus marks the end of our trip to Bloomsburg.