I'm going to London for my supposed-to-be-9-year-old-trip. I'm not even going to be 8 and a half.
Yay me.
Okay. I'll tell you what a 9-year-old-trip is.
When Girl Cousin (my oldest cousin) was little, she told Hold The Glass (my grandma) and Mr. Coffee (my grandpa) "You're always out of town. I want to go with you." Hold The Glass said "Oh, don't worry. We'll take you to Paris."
That was the start of the 9-year-old-trips.
The middle cousin, (hereafter known as Mr. Tall, because I say so,) went to Alaska.
Youngest cousin: (now Big Pain II) anyway: London.
Big Pain: San Fransisco.
I'm the last one. Okay! Drive careful! Bye!