What a croc.

I bought Hartwell some crocs recently. Possibly my least favorite shoes. To me, they look like a disease growing science experiment. Sweaty feet and dirt? Yuck. But Hartwell has Fred Flintstone feet and all the other shoes were too narrow for him. Then, once his brother had a pair, Bee wanted some. I got Bee's at Target. Which Hartwell was very sweet about pointing out,"Yours are from Target. They don't have a strap. Or a crocodile." Scamp. They also forced Bee to walk like a slippered grandpa shuffling toward the boob tube. He kept losing a shoe and didn't want to walk. So there I am, at a ginormous outdoor mall suspiciously devoid of kids shoe stores. (Unless you count Kitson and their $48 adidas). Suddenly, my brain led me to a paper store and a rubber band ball and voila! His shoes stayed on and he could run! Run like the wind!

That rubber band ball is going everywhere with me.

Fun Fourth.

I was looking for all the fun things the internets said my new camera did. And found this.

Bee really liked Papa. He spent half the day growling at and chasing after him. Papa is in the chair and the focus of said growling:

Hartwell: Why do they call them sparklers?
Me: Because they sparkle.
Hartwell: Why do they sparkle?
Me: Because they're called sparklers.
Repeat ad nauseum.

Monterey and Pancakes

I tried my best to get a photo of Hartwell and the Cannery Row sign. Magic hour was not so very magic for me. But this pose was so hilarious, I had to post a blurry photo. Is he a teapot? An Egyptian?

We stayed at a friendly little cottage-style motor lodge in Pacific Grove. We had limited resources with Barkley traveling with us. It was nice enough, but we were a bit loud for the place. I was accosted in the parking lot at ten by an old man who I can only describe as the bad guy in a Scooby Doo cartoon. He had that "haunted amusement park owner" look to him. He could hear my kids jumping. They'd been in the car all day! Don't worry, I gave him the what for. You cannot approach a woman in a parking lot late at night and not get the Waternoose Jump and Growl. Or whatever.

The next morning, we slept in and John took Barkley on a loooong walk:

When we finally woke up, we went to this place for breakfast:

They allowed dogs and gave us a squirt bottle to squirt the pigeons. What the WHAT?!

John ate this:

I swear they were ten inches across. I had to make him stop eating so he didn't fall asleep on the drive.

The rest of the drive into Sacramento I spent asking John what people did for a living in every town we drove through. He was sick of me after Castroville. Castroville,...mmmmm,...artichokes...