We'll be just fine

It's our first day of spring, just the two of us. Big kids are back in school and the air smells like life and we have the whole day to play.

We load up the van with stroller and fruit snacks and bottles of water, and before we even cross the bridge, I hear snoring behind me. Of course, he sleeps now, and I think how smart I was to pack Bible and notebook for just in case. I think of a spot in the shade, where the view is green and the city is near, excited for a few minutes of peace and meditation. On the road next to the art gallery, I stop, smile, and turn off ignition.

"Playground?!" he yells still half asleep. The spell is broken.

No amount of coaxing or shushing will close his eyes, so I give in. "Oh yeah, right, yes, playground. Let's go."

I turn the ignition and drive to where the rich people walk and sip coffee on the sidewalk. This'll do just fine, I think. We'll be just fine.