In 1997, we lived in Connecticut where Adam was attending graduate school and I was tending to Braeden. One of our favorite places to take a day trip to was Mystic, CT. It is a quintessential little New England town on the Long Island Sound.
The quaint little shops we’d walk through didn’t mind that we had absolutely no money (except for the cost of one small bear it turns out) to spend on our student loan existence. We went there the day after Thanksgiving and watched Santa come into town on a tugboat.
If you’re ever in New England Thanksgiving weekend, go to Mystic. When we got home, Adam slipped “Mystic” into Braeden’s crib before he woke up from his nap.