We've now been actually living (not traveling or visiting) in the US for seven weeks. There are a number of things that I love about being in the motherland. Public libraries are amazing. Same with public parks. Although sometimes illogically bizarre, having a GPS makes getting around much easier. And of course, Target, as always.
I looked forward to being back to the land of Wonderful Things, but one thing I didn't think about when looking forward to all of the amazing things I could do was that in order to do those things, I'd have to leave my house.
In Cairo, we had a lovely, large apartment. So on days when I didn't feel like leaving, the children had lots of space to ride bikes, push strollers, build houses, make cushion mountains, and scatter their toys.
I think that the townhouse we're renting (at a price that I'm not going to name, but let's just say that it's a good thing State pays housing) could probably fit into the front room of our apartment. And that includes the staircases and three bedrooms and bathrooms. We have a deck, but it opens onto a communal hill, and even Edwin can easily unlatch the gate, so I have to be downstairs in my room to supervise if they want to go outside. So the children have the kitchen, the living room, and their room to play in. And any time they bring out a toy or two (of the three we brought with us) the entire house immediately looks like a hurricane went through.
So yes, the parks are amazing. I love the library, and maybe we'll make it to the zoo. But when doing any of those things involves loading three children (soon to be four) into the car, unloading them, keeping them from running away or being run over, putting them back in, driving home, and unloading them again, I think I'll actually take my apartment in Cairo some days. I guess I've been spoiled.