We just returned from a family trip to Los Angeles so the boys could meet their great grandmother. She's a spry 98, and it was a joy to have her see the next generation on Thanksgiving.
We were worried at how well the babies would fly, especially since babies can't easily relieve the pressure in their ears when a plane takes off and lands. The boys did fine. In fact, they were great travelers, even putting up with a maintenance delay before the last leg of the flight.
More importantly, the family took a couple of side trips after visiting great grandma on Saturday. We foolishly tried to go to farmer's market, a place I have fond memories of from my youth. Earlier in the day, before we left the house to visit great grandma, my sister told me that the market had become a bit more commercialized. I imagined there would be more stores selling "stuff" and less food and produce. I had no idea what commercialized might mean. It was a mall. A big mall. There was a parking structure that looked to be eight stories high, if not ten. Check out the list of stores there here. It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving. The traffic was unbelievable. We didn't stop, but it still took over half an hour to work our way out of the mess.
We ended up in Little Tokyo eating at Hibachi BBQ Korean Kitchen. The service was great, with two middle-aged, spunky women doting on us because of the boys. I had beef BBQ and my wife had chicken BBQ, both on the suggestion of a server. We weren't disappointed. To end the experience, we walked to the local market and purchased some Pocky for my wife. The boys slept the entire time, from the moment we left the car, ate lunch, wandered through some stores, and then hit the market. It was a fine day. It was a fine weekend.