Not April Fools

I am sitting in Kansas City with Dad. We are gonna be back in Salt Lake on Tuesday. And the adventuring is going well.  We drove through Oak Ridge and saw Grandpa's old house (read: laid on the hill outside it while Dad thought I was weird), and I finally know where Gatlinburg is (Tennessee, that's where it is), and new inside jokes have been born, and we continued the road tripping with Ruby Tuesday's croutons tradition, and I finally found something that makes Dad sicker than me! I can look up at the St. Louis Arch just fine. Also, I laid on the ground and put my feet in the Missouri river again. Bam! St. Louis is mine now.

Also, I made daddy dance with me in a parking lot somewhere in Missouri. No one knows where. Well, probably he does, but I don't remember. My capacity to retain small details was drastically impaired after driving through three states over five hours, but my ability to produce sillyness was apparently intact.

("Dad, you have to waltz with me in the parking lot! Please! Then I'll own all of Missouri and not just St. Louis! Dance with me!")

After some body blocking him from getting in the car, he smiled indulgently and danced.

I think it's going rather well.