Boston!

It was all about walking the Freedom Trail. (It was also the day I forgot to wear my fitbit and everyone else got over 20,000 steps and I didn't get any credit.  (Do you even step if don't have your fitbit on?  I think not.)

I've heard that people either like Boston or New York City.  I know which one I like.

Here's what Boston looks like:

The history!

The cemeteries!

I love a good cemetery.  The older the better.

The general awesomeness!

I took way too many pictures.  Everywhere I looked, oooh pretty!

This is what love from your first born looks like:

He carried my bag when I got tired.  It's a slightly girlie looking bag, but could have been worse.

This is what sustenance along the way looks like:

Greek yogurt and blueberries at Pret

If Pret ever moves West, I'll be a happy girl.

This is what boundless energy looks like:

It's hard to get a picture of a perpetually in motion child--especially when you don't want to move from your park bench-- but that's him.

We collapsed on benches in the Boston Common for a little break and Mark spotted a playground.  "Can I go?" he asked.

I said, "Yes," and also, "Don't hurt the little kids.  Be careful."

Which is the same thing I've been telling him since he was about a year old.  Because he's always been big and...energetic.

Pretty soon he had organized a game of tag while I contemplated our differences in youth, energy and vitality.  Where does he get the energy?  Then I watch him eat.  Oh, yeeeeeaaaaaah.

Speaking of food, I texted Enoch, who served his mission in Boston and has been back several times, for a can't miss place to eat there.  He recommended Durgin-Park.  We remembered that we had eaten there way back in the day with Enoch when Emma was a baby on my hip and Braeden was a curly headed blondie running around.  He said the prime rib was the Thing.  I texted back, "Will we need a second mortgage to afford it?"  (Because if I know my brother, he doesn't mind spending money on the little luxuries of life.)  He texted back that it was worth every penny.

We walked past the restaurant--it's at the Feneuil Hall Marketplace--and I checked out the menu on the door.

The prime rib?  A bit shy of $50 a plate.

We kept walking. 

We did eat at 99 Restaurant and Pub, a few times.  The food there is more in our price range, including a pasta dish that is so big the waitress said she'd never seen anyone finish it.  (Braeden bases his restaurant choices on how big the servings are.)  He finished the pasta.  We don't have a lot of talent in our family, but apparently appetite is on the list.

We loved Boston.  If I had to live in a big city, it would be high on my list.  It's beautiful and colorful and charming.

When we were walking in the North End, I overheard a conversation with an accent I can't begin to recreate.  A little boy said to his mom, "He was talking North End."

She gave a disgusted hmph and said, "He thinks he's talking North End." 

I can't "talk North End," but I do like to visit.