Taking the entire family on an outing is one of those things that sounds good after a week of not leaving the house only because it falls in the same category as childbirth and Disneyworld and a select few other things (like play-doh). For self-preservation, the mind romanticizes the event and the bad parts become fuzzy and unrecognizable instead of being burnt in the psyche for the horror that they were. Every time the weekend rolls around, I get antsy to go out into the real world, ignoring the fact that Evan has become feral, Amy is touring every public restroom in town, Noah will probably get a nosebleed, Sarah has become a hormonal hurricane and Tommy is, well, himself. We should just build a bubble over our property and have everything delivered. Life would be simple. But nooooo, I want to gasp go buy some groceries or something equally exciting. Unmedicated fool that I am, I think we should get out of the house tonight. It’ll be fun. Let’s bring play-doh for the ride. And bubbles.