Since we wanted to drive North, Mom suggested we go through the drive-up for breakfast burritos. My little one refers to this as the Burrito Shop. Lyn indicated she didn't want a burrito so Mom fixed her a bowl of oatmeal. Mom tucked a granola bar into Lyn's purse in case she needed a snack later on. As soon as we hopped in the car, Lyn ate her granola bar. Five minutes later, we were in the drive up deciding on the numbers of #8 (egg, bacon, cheese and hashbrowns) or #9 (egg, bacon, cheese, hashbrowns and green chile) burritos needed. Lyn chimed in.
"Well... I'll just... I'm just saying... Maybe next time..."
"Do you want a burrito, too?" Mom asked, her eyes getting big. I was a bit surprised as well. She'd essentially eaten two breakfasts already.
So we ordered a #8 for Lyn. She wasn't hungry. I'm not sure if she really remembered eating breakfast but we were eating and she felt it was necessary for her to eat as well. She announced halfway through hers that she was eating slowly to take her time. I think she was eating slowly because she was full.
|On the drive to Santa Fe|
|I love these views|
We drove up to town and viewed the International Museum of Folk Art. The museum is fascinating and I've not been there since... well, I'm pretty sure it was nearly 30 years ago. The museum is the result of one couple's passion for collecting folk art as they travelled the world.
|Created by the museum's founder|
|A cow from Japan|
Why the rush?
|Lyn is not amused by museums|
The next gallery had no benches. She went through it holding onto Mom. We didn't linger. She sat on a bench outside the third gallery. We kept our viewing of the pottery from the American South to under 5 minutes.
We had to help her to the car and almost had to help her in it. She wasn't exaggerating her movements. We had promised her we would stop at a favorite cafe and went there next. She needed help from the car to the table. The only step up was the curb. When her food arrived, she was upset that her fries were cold. Mom and I both reached over to pluck fries from her plate to check. They were perfect, toasty without burning. It took both of us assurning her that the fries were good for her to accept them with a shrug and a curled lip. Halfway through her meal, she declared "I don't like the pink," referring to the hamburger she was eating. The restaurant's noise and activity level was overwhelming to her and by the end of the meal, she was clearly struggling. She also needed help on the return to the car after the meal.
From there, the plan was to return home. She was worn out. There were tears on the way home. There were tears again when we got home. She was struggling with her vision. She was upset that I was scheduled to fly home the next day. She wanted a nap but wouldn't let herself give in. She was in bed by 6pm.