it all started with breakfast.

A few Sundays ago we ventured out to a little breakfast place in South Lake Union.

I love South Lake Union.

I love that it's right on the water, that the S.L.U.T runs thru town, how 'urban' it is, that there are 10 different restaurants on every block.

And when I am downtown, I pretend in my head that we really live in some awesome high rise, and that my kids go to some school that requires uniforms, and that my condo is super hip fully decorated with West Elm meets CB2 meets opposite of my house.

And then I start to believe it all.

And I wonder if other people really think that we are this really 'cool' family that lives right on the corner of 3rd and Terry.

On the very top floor.

Brings me back to the days when my cousin and I used to pretend we spoke a different language in the grocery store, and we were completely convinced that other people must think we were from other countries.

Because, duh, we were 'speaking' a totally different language.

But I am sure they just thought we were idiots.

Actually I am quite certain.

And I am sure that still holds true when I am gaily skipping thru the streets of Seattle.

No one is buying it.

Least of all my husband.

So after the kids were amazing at breakfast (or, as amazing as Carson can be in a restaurant), and after they raced all around Amazon's (super top secret) campus, and after we grabbed one more coffee, and after one more plea to Ryan saying 'See how good, and happy we all are.  Lets sell everything we own and move to a penthouse right above the Brave Horse Tavern', we all got in my 'mom' car and headed back over 520 to Suburbia.

But rest assured, I didn't speak to Ryan the whole way back.

How dare he live in reality.