We got there early and met Georgie right off the bat. I could barely speak, which is really saying something. Mom asked if George would pose for a pic, to which he replied, "Mam, not even my wife calls me George." You imagine the list of responses running through mommy's head (so could dad -- he glanced nervously between George and mom), but she just smiled and told him we were really looking for his younger sister. After George informed us B-dog was in Fredericksburg and had walked away, I matter-of-factly said, "I guess it's a good thing he's not dead."
While daddy and Cami stayed at the hoecake cook-off for a while, mom and I toured the mansion again. Now an old pro, I immediately asked the docent upstairs "what was missing" from the third bedroom and pointed out that the crib "wasn't for Betty." But I think mom's favorite of the day was, upon hearing again about George's unfortunate decline (he basically suffocated), I asked mommy "did he not drink enough coffee?" I just know what happens to mom when she doesn't get her Starbucks and I imagine George experienced something similar.
All in all, the hoecakes were delish, the sun was shining, and we had a blast. Happy President's Day!
I will give you the double stink-eye, sir.