Family weekend away

We’re in Freeport, Maine, to support H and A, who are racing in the Lobsterman Tri tomorrow morning. Earlier, we were all crossing the street in slightly wet and wooly conditions when our umbrella got blown into premature decrepitude. B: “That certainly was a strong gust of wind.” Later she counted to six for us in Spanish (I think this is a Montessori thing and I know my grandfather would have been very proud indeed, though for him “cinco” was pronounced “thinco”). Of course, she also flipped out at bedtime, threw a minor fit,  pulled her jammies off and stomped around uttering maledictions. So Miss Crankypants is still in there, along with that funny smart person. By and large, though I admit to a certain empathy with Miss Crankypants, I prefer the funny smart person.

I’m pretty sure that’s who this is, doing something incisive and nuanced with numbers.

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