For years, like many American's, we've tried in vain to get tickets to the White House Easter Egg Roll. This year was no different. We tried. In vain. Several times. And was once again shut out.
But, the upside to being one of the few late-thirty-somethings in an office of work-a-holic Washingtonians is the is one of the 'few old guys with kids'. And he was plied with sympathy. All of his co-workers entered their name into a lottery with the intent to pass on their tickets to us.
We hit the jackpot.
It was a beautiful day.
The girls were dressed in their White House appropriate finery, and I had a plan. We stopped to have lunch near our house to fill bellies before heading into DC. The problem was food never really make it into bellies. At the end of lunch, I saw Clare give me the look. A half second later, that look ended up all over herself and Grace as my carefully laid plan crumbled before my eyes.
In the rush to go home and change the girls, a key part of Clare's wardrobe was left behind.
Once we got past the chaos of actually getting on the grounds, the girls hunted and dyed eggs. They met their heroes: Dora, Diego and Curious George. And we procured a much sought after family photo on the south lawn of the White House.
All sans-shoes.
Gracie's shoe chronicle continues. This time it's a little different though.