The Trip Continues...

Yesterday, we figured we would journey into the city.

Everyone either told Betsy don't drive into city, or, parking is free on the weekends.

Our plan was to take the car to the Staten Island Ferry. Betsy punched in Staten Island Ferry into the GPS and it took us towards the bridge. The next thing we knew, we were on the bridge.
Paying a thirteen dollar toll.
Driving into the city.

Betsy would slow down as we passed parking signs, trying to read and react in time. We quickly employed the strategy of parking first, reading second. We found a spot along the street right near the bridge exit. We figured that the sooner we parked the "smaller the knot we have to untie later" would be. We hoofed in up to Times Square and met Uncle Jimmy and Melissa in Toys-R-Us. Way too crowded. The five of us soaked up the Manhattan energy as we hopped into various stores (too crowded) until we reached Central Park. I'd been to New York four other times, but this was the first time I'd ever walked into the park. Keep in mind that the boys have not been getting great nights of sleep. When this happens, Little P acts nasty. Today was no exception. He was a rude, grumpy mess as we walked through Central Park and bought a pretzel that tasted like cardboard. We lost Uncle Jimmy and Melissa at Dylan's Candy Store. Besty wanted to visit Chelsea Market (home of Food Network) but that consisted of me standing in line with Little P for twenty minutes to use the bathroom while Betsy chased Big D through six or seven stores. Not fun. By then, we were exhausted. It was time to head back to the car. I hoisted Big D on my shoulders and we walked towards the car. We knew that as long as the river and Jersey City were to our right and the bridge was in front of us that we'd eventually/hopefully find the car. Two miles later we did.
This was the first time in my life when I've been to Manhattan and not really done ANYTHING.

Except survive.

That was Sunday.
Today we met up with the rest of the family and took the train to Hoboken, New Jersey. Everybody wanted to buy pastries from Carlos' Bakery: Home of the Cake Boss! Betsy and her family love to cook, buy cooking gadgets, and watch lots of Food Network. I joke that they're "entertained" by food. I tend to just eat it and poop it. Going to Carlos' Bakery wasn't a high priorty for me, but what else was I going to do?

The wait to get in started at the CVS across the street. A bakery employee handed out ticket numbers to the people waiting in line. Betsy got #67. I chased Big D up and down the block while Little P and Poppy ate pizza at Basil's Pizzeria next door. Little P is not a big eater, so to see him and Poppy cross the street eating pizza was a thrill for Betsy and I. Especially when their objective was just to find a bathroom. We crossed the street to the front of the bakery forty minutes later. Thirty minutes after that, Betsy and the crew gained admittance into the bakery. On the farthest wall we saw the sign: NOW SERVING NUMBER 27.

SHIIIIIIIiiiiiiiiit.

I continued to chase Big D up and down the block ( and into a BLIMPIES!) for the next hour and half. I wouldn't have kept my sanity if it weren't for cousin Timothy. Big D wanted to play with him the whole time and he was a great sport to oblige. Big D kept referring to him as "Mr. Mailman." No one knows why. On a side note, Little P was an awesome sport too for being super patient inside the bakery with his mom. We all had dinner at Basil's Pizzeria, took the subway to the bus stop, and rode the bus back to Staten Island.

We ended the night with a game of Quiddler around Aunt Betsy's kitchen table. By far, the highlight of the trip. Betsy concurs.

And conquers.