Just back from a nearly three-week trip to England to visit family and friends. Sweetpea had a terrific time, and so did we: picnics in castle ruins, games in the garden with cousins, and more teatime treats than Sweetpea ever conceived of. (“Piggy biscuits” — cookies iced and decorated like pigs — were the clear favorites.)

The trip back was a rough one, though. A series of delays, a packed jumbo jet, a toddler without a nap — the omens were not good.

“I want to get out,” Sweetpea said as we got on the plane. And it looked like a lot of the passengers agreed with her. But nobody wished it more fervently that we ourselves did during the last half-hour, when the flight got so bumpy that David and I nearly lost our dinners — and Sweetpea did in fact lose hers. With one thing and another, we were the very last ones off the plane.

But we’re home now, and in one piece, so all is well. Except that I am going out of my mind trying to unpack everything! And I keep waking at 3 am thinking it’s time to get up. (Thank goodness it’s not.)