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and eight bouncing toddlers.
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Over the river, and through the wood,
to Grandfather’s house we go
— Lydia Maria Child, “A Boy’s Thanksgiving Day”
I’m not a bad driver — I just crash a lot.
Can a relationship survive a 10-hour car ride, the license plate game, and a bunch of drunken teenagers in the Palmetto State?
Discovering stories, muskets, peanut soup and other good stuff in Colonial Williamsburg.