Idaho, reverence, and the nature of boys

This weekend we headed up to Idaho, where Eric's sister Lindsey emceed a Junior Miss pageant in Malad and gave a youth fireside in Pocatello. There's nothing that we love better than a road trip, and this one was even more fun because we had Nana, Grandpa, aunts, uncles, and cousins along. On the way up we all stopped at Maddox, an amazing steakhouse in northern Utah. They actually have a cattle yard just across the parking lot from the restaurant, ensuring extra fresh steaks. The kids got a kick out of the frisbee plates that their meals came on, and it was a treat to sit with Nana and Grandpa (pictured with my nephew Daniel). As we continued into Idaho, we stopped by Cherry Creek and Malad cemeteries to visit some of Eric's ancestor's graves. There is actually only one familial grave to visit in Malad: apparently Esther Jane Jones Mifflin's dying wish was that she not be buried with the rest of the relatives in Cherry Creek (pictured below) because of the snakes up there. We filled the rest of the trip with the two programs, church, and time at the hotel. Both nights Lindsey performed beautifully onstage and, I'm sure, motivated many young people to "be their best selves" (the Jr. Miss objective). The kids love to see Aunt Lindsey perform, but they were a little confused why hundreds of people were lining up for her autograph this time. Caught up in the excitement, even we got in line! Here's Linds with Allie (my niece) and Jacob after the Malad pageant.

With all this visiting and pageantry and reverence, you can probably imagine that the boys were about to go crazy by Sunday night (it's funny how this happens to the mother at the same time). At the event center as I was chasing this one (who, by the way, lost a shoe because he was running so fast),

I noticed another family in the hallway. There were four children, and they were all sitting on a couch with their mother. Meanwhile, my three children were 1) in the auditorium, but rolling in the aisle, 2) in the hall, trying to take himself on an elevator ride, and 3) running down the hallway, taking off his clothing. At this point I don't think that they could have sit still if I had superglued their pants to the cushions. And that's when I noticed what was different about Sitting Family and my family: all of the sitters were girls. Yes, four girls, sitting by their mother, whispering together.

So, on my nineteenth lap around the rotunda, I sighed, relieved. Maybe it's not entirely my fault that my children can't 1) sit still, 2) be reverent, and 3) keep within sight for multiple events in the same weekend. Maybe they're just boys, and maybe Plato had it right on when he observed that "of all the animals, the boy is the most unmanageable."

(P.S. After the fireside I finally get a hold of Zachary, the slipperiest of my lovelies.)