Four years ago, my whole family (parents, siblings, nieces and nephews) took two giant passenger vans down to San Antonio for the Thanksgiving holiday.

It was a long trip (we got stuck in Austin traffic for a really long time), but we did a lot of fun stuff and all of the cousins had a blast together (at that time, they ranged in age from about six months old to nine years or so).

We split into two groups one day, my parents and our family going to the zoo (where Essie took a nap in the wagon and used Ervin’s special blanket before he was old enough to forbid it) and the other group going to the beach, I believe.

The next day we all went to Sea World, which was a blast. We still talk about when Essie touched the sting ray’s eyeball and got splashed by it, scaring the bejeezus out of her.

Shamu had an amazing Christmas show, too.

There are a lot of good memories from that trip (and now I really want to skip Thanksgiving next year and take a trip instead), but for me, it was also the beginning of the end. All of the kids got a stomach virus either on the trip or immediately after getting home….Essie got it right before leaving and puked or filled her diaper all the way home from south Texas to northeast Kansas (I’m forever grateful that I was in the other van), and I’m convinced that that triggered her Celiac disease. From early December until February of the next year, it was basically like she had that stomach virus and it got progressively worse until I was changing her diaper in the bath tub three times a day.

Isn’t it funny how such strong memories can be attached to certain points in your life? Do you have any like that?