Uncles Chuckie, Eric and JL play tag on Ocean Beach with Kina, then join her for dinner and ice cream before coming home for hide and seek and taking robotaxis away
All of the SF honorary uncles came by for games and food and Kina reading about Pusheen. It was ambitious and fun.
“I actually prefer the fog, really,” claims visiting newspaper magnate, cutting the nose and relentless clear skies of her east coast birthplace
“It is happening,” Laura has taken to saying as we ramble slowly through the easygoing lanes of San Francisco and the greater Bay Area. By “happening”, she means that we are becoming enamored of the luxurious politesse and elevated bakery standards of this place. The organic produce is more organic than organic. The cars drive themselves, slowly. Nobody honks. Kina, too “is happening”, claiming that the ever-present and cooling fog of the Outer Sunset is preferable to the beating sun and frenetic energy of New York.
I have joked to Laurea that every trip we make to the Bay Area has three acts:
warms family’s San Francisco house by making parents chuckle
This may be my favorite game of hers yet. Turns out, the thing most likely to make me laugh is Kina laughing at herself, which means that I mostly end up waiting for Kina to crack herself up, which seems like a win-win scenario for all involved.
ungulates found nothing on grass by gate; Kina waves hi from distance
The deer usually come before Kina wakes up, but she needed to go to them today, instead, and found them grazing by the boulders outside the gate. It was magical, for her and me both.
Child and her deer buddy catch up on the mountain as fog lifts
In many ways, this entire trip is about Kina seeing her friend Bonnie the deer. She has been talking about Bonnie for weeks. The very first thing she did on the mountain after our drive from Alameda was call out to her friends until she came, young fawns in tow. Kina had apples, as promised, from the last time they met, and she will have apples again next year.
child makes it all the way to the west coast after only asking four times if we “are almost there”; the air is clear and kid is happy
I have gotten to the place with this project where I no longer feel compelled to bring five sheets of white construction paper in my suitcase for the Sunday Kina when I travel. This is much better.
As family decamps to airport hotel in preparation for flight to California, child celebrates the true arrival of summer
As an adult, it is easy to forget the eternity of summer vacation that we’re experienced (if we were so fortunate) when we were children. For me, the weekend is not forever, but the second best thing is working from California while your kid has the forever weekend.
Mommy hopes school-age-to-snuggle ratio remains consistent
Catching up a bit here again, but the couple of intervening days since we published this issue have seen a steady increase in our very teenage child asking for very extra snuggles, so this is a trend worth noting.
Kina spies on local high schoolers for personal style inspo
When we asked Kina how she decided that she liked making rubber-band chokers, she said that she had seen “high schoolers” wearing them “and also flare pants”.
Our esteemed publisher looks ahead of the curve for fashion trends.
On long car ride home from beach, Kina and Futura inquire about “Real New Yorkers” and find ways to stay quiet in the car
The advantage that people born in the city of New York have in the debate about “real New Yorkers” is really unfair, says local dad who has lived in New York for nearly 30 years and was unfortunately not born here.
Blakely, classmate of two years, moves to Pennsylvania
As a child growing up as part of a military family, I left my school and friends behind every three years or so, setting up shop each time in some new state or country to make an entirely new set of friends. It rarely bothered me much (though the move after fourth grade was incredibly difficult for me), and I learned quickly that homes were temporary and new friends plentiful. I sometimes wonder if that’s shaped my approach to friendships over the years—for better and for worse—to make me more adaptive, in some ways, to loss.
I can remember the people I’ve left behind over the years: the kid with the thick glasses in kindergarten in Rome, NY; Gina, the girl next door when I was in first grade there; Bunty, Teddy, Mike, and Greg from Newark, OH; Wellington Chang(!) and Yusuke from Fairfax, VA; the various Mikes and Jerries from Oklahoma (and a girl whose name I have forgotten who confessed her love for me the day I left, to my dismay); a number of folks from my high school (many of whom were transient themselves); and my many friends (and groups of friends) from college. Their faces are clear to me, even if my youngest friendships feel more abstract than my teenaged ones.
If I were to write a Moving Book, the person moving would be me, over and over again. I’d list the schools and parks and teams and teachers I left behind as I went. I never thought to write it all down; it’s just in my head, my field of view changing gradually, with a few kids holding space in the shadows each time.
