Grandma and Grandpa T flew in on Thursday afternoon and they rented a vehicle for the weekend. The car rental worker snagged them into ending up with a Sequoia quoting threats of snow for the weekend. And then they figured since they have a Hugormous SUV, why not take a road trip? Leavenworth? Yes, please!
I’ve wanted to visit since we moved to Seattle. I first heard of it when I was researching places to go spend a romantic weekend for a honeymoon. And I’ve especially wanted to see it at Christmas time when it’s all lit up like a cozy little gingerbread village against the snowy hills.
Our experience was sort of like that. Except for the lights and the snow and the gingerbread and the cozy.
We left around 11 so Lucy could nap in the car on the way there. Which she did for approximately 30 minutes. We stopped for lunch and we got to our destination at about 2:30 and stopped first thing at the visitors’ center. And do you know what we learned? That Fridays, Leavenworth takes the night off of lights.
Black. Friday. The ONLY night of the week. That they don’t put the Christmas lights on. Mondays? Lights. Tuesdays? Saturdays? Wednesdays? Sundays? Thursdays? Lights, lights, lights, lights, aaaaaaand lights. Fridays? NO LIGHTS.
Oh, and it was 17 degrees. We ended up popping in and out of a couple little tourist shops, looking at the horse and buggy, and then getting back into the car to head for home.
I had been counting on dinner of schnitzel and spaetzel and all order of yummy German things, but when we passed what looked like the only drop-in-and-eat-no-frills restaurant, it seemed to be a brat stand with a beer garden. And in Grandma Marge’s words, “Cold beer and a brat? Might as well be at the Packer game!”
I seem to be becoming an expert at all things not really fun for the under 2 crowd. Explaining to Lucy why she had to be strapped into her carseat for 5 hours and strapped into her stroller for the rest of our visit wasn’t necessarily the best time I’ve ever had. Also not fun was trying to find a public restroom with a changing table, giving up and changing a poopy diaper on the floor of a two-stall bathroom with a line of women waiting. That’s the first time I ever worked up a sweat from a diaper change. Good thing I’ve been working on those squat muscles.
We might should have done a little more research before making the trip, maybe. We should have called ahead to see what the deal was. And then again, maybe it’s ME. Maybe I need to be better at managing my expectations.
It IS, after all, a beautiful little village in a beautiful little spot.
Proof of the beautifulness.