Monday night my bride and I slept in Rivendell. Well, not exactly. We spent the night at the Mohican Castle resort, about sixty miles southwest of here, where the hills are larger and mostly wooded, which sort of resembles Rivendell.
Just Michelle and me.
And a baby. And a three year old.
Only someone who has eight kids and has been married almost eighteen years would think this romantic, but there you are.
We had never spent the night away without the whole tribe but we have reached the place in life where our older children can be left with all but the youngest.
In the morning we hiked in the Mohican State Forest, to a waterfall, still mostly frozen except for a trickle. The path was beautiful, following the Mohican River most of the way, then diverting up a long hollow to the falls.
It was a sort of test drive, one night away, and we were a little nervous about what we would find upon our return. But when we walked in the door the house was clean, there were no reports of fights or bad behavior, and all seemed well.
I turned to Michelle: “Come on, let’s leave. I think they are better off without us.”