Stanford or Bust

We have just returned from a wonderful 'Farewell to California' trip along our beloved San Mateo Coast, Monterey and Big Sur and ultimately over to Pinnacles National Monument. During the coastal portions we were with our good friends the Jagers, which made it all the more fun, and it will be the subject of several future posts. (A guy can't spend all of his time packing, can he?) For now, I wanted to post a quick one to let you know how the trip ended.

Several times over the past few days, Kate has mentioned how she really wants to come back to California in the future, because she will miss it so. Her mother, seeing opportunity in this, thought it might be a good time to stop at Stanford University on the way home, to talk about what a beautiful and special place it is, how fun it would be to live in California again while going to college there, what you need to be focused on to get to come back there, etc. -- you know, typical Kathleen kinds of things.

At least, that was the plan when mother and daughter left dad and two sleeping boys in the car. They were gone for a long time (or maybe it just seemed long because both boys woke up just after they left), which led me to believe Kate was really taking to the place.

I eagerly awaited Kathleen's report, and upon their return, asked "so how did it go?"

Kathleen: "Kate, why don't you tell your dad what you told me about our tour?"

Kate: " I told mom that it was too early to start bugging me about college decisions."

Dad: "Oh, and why is that?"

Kate: "Because there are so many other things to worry about."

Dad: "Like what?"

Kate: "Like second grade!"

At which point we both burst out laughing, subtly acknowledged our over eagerness with a lame "good point," and promptly drove away. (She did like the campus enough to take some of her own pictures, though).



Alden, meanwhile, was spared the Stanford tour but may just be persistent and clever enough to get in. We took several hikes over the last few days, each of which inevitably led to Alden standing in front of one or both of us, arms raised, saying "carry you" (which means, perversely, 'carry me') or "my shoulders" (which means, 'put me up on your shoulders'). "No" was not an acceptable answer to these requests, and would be met with "Aaaaaw, Pwease!!! Pwease!!!"

When this sorrowful plea was ignored, he would do any number fo things to achieve his goal: suggest it again with a smile and an affirmative nod of his head; block the way forward by shuffling back and forth across the trail as you tried to pass him; and ultimately, that good old standby, stomping his feet and crying.

Our hike up Condor Gulch in Pinnacles today was another such event. His mom tried everything to distract him into walking on his own, pointing out leaves to touch, talking about shape and texture, taking frequent rest stops, etc. After a couple of minutes of good walking, she thought she had succeeded in distracting him down the trail under his own power. Just moments later Alden gestured to a rock and said "Sit down here, mommy."

Touched by his apparent concern for mom (who was carrying Keegan) and thinking that he was liking these little rest moments where they studied nature, his mom happily complied. At which point, Alden immediately climbed the rest of the way up the rock and deftly leveraged himself on to her shoulders. (Yes, she gave in for a few minutes and just carried both kids!). My son is nothing if not persistent about getting his way. It is enough to make you mad, but he is just so darn cute. During the course of the same trip, he suddenly said "mom, dad, guess what?" To which came the rote reply, "what, Alden?" "I wuv you," he said.



Then there is Keegan, who at this point is simply planning to get into Stanford on his looks. We may be biased, but we're thinking that in his case, that plan might actually work.