Given that I've already recapped our journey to get to Utah, it's a needlessly mentioned conclusion that we survived the trip. It goes without saying that I will belabor this point by describing the reason we should not have.
Namely, no one -- I repeat no one -- should drive through, near, or in Wyoming before Memorial Day or after Labor Day. And yet, we did. Lived to tell about it. So, you know, maybe there is such a thing as global warming.
Of course our day started with coffee, lots and lots of coffee. So let's skip that nonsense and get right into the gritty:
Find ourselves en route to Colorado.
Pass into Wyoming and simultaneously conclude it ("it" being driving through aforementioned hell) wouldn't be so bad if you could drive 100 mph or so.
Stop at Little America. Despite the glamour, Mason refuses the facilities. And I am categorically disappointed that this is probably the last possible stop in which I could find a suitably tasteless souvenir for one of my friends, and recognize that I have failed her miserably.
And here we have Rawlins. It's high time I distribute gifts/bribes/concession trinket. Cooper is now the proud owner of a Zooble named Rad. He is fascinated by this name.
What is my zoobles' name, again?
Is my Zoobles' name Red?
I forgot my Zoobles' name.
Can you tell my Zoobles' name?
Rad. As in, it would be rad if you never asked me that again.
Mason falls asleep.
OK, did you say his name was Red?
Nope. It's Rad. Raaaaaaaaad. Say it with me, Rad.
Mommy, I still can't remember this guys' name.
Oh I remember, his name is Rad.
Finished. I am finished. I am getting out of this car and it is going to take serious cash to get me back in it. Serious. Also, Rad is banned.