Spent Sunday touring Boston with my daughter and my sister. It was so nice. We went on a 45-minute cruise around the Harbor, walked through the North End, and finished up on Newberry Street, drinking Chai bubble tea and splitting two slices of cheesecake. We hailed a cab, insisted the cabbie turn off the radio until we realized he was listening to the Celtics who in the next six minutes won the National Championship!

The next day my daughter graduated summa cum laude. We ate at the bar of an Italian restaurant, stopped for gelato, and laughed until we choked for air when we realized the cab we had hailed was lacking in padding underneath my sister's portion of the backseat. Three to five inches lower than us, we were the three bears, my daughter the tallest, me in the middle, and her the baby! "My gelato is mush!" she screamed heaving with laughter. "Hoist it out the window!" I said, flinging my arm backwards to show her how, and we laughed all the way back to my daughter's home.

Today I rode out of Boston, reliving it all. Normally I go home blue for my girl. This time it was doubled. Sis is back home, as am I, and my daughter is having dinner with other graduates. I'm sitting here seeing that liquid Pistachio gelato sloshing in the paper cup held by my sister belting out belly laughs over the obvious proportional differences in our seating arrangements.

When we got out of the cab, my daughter stayed, saying she'd pay for the ride. Sis and I watched her slide down into the flat as a pancake portion, and my sister and I stood there blustering with chortles of joy - as one darling young woman entered the educated workforce - and two mamas staggered back toward childish mirth.