Photo Pest: Quechee Kids Bash Alligator. Mercilessly!

Thom and I found a stowaway from Alligator Alcatraz in Delia's trunk en route to Quechee to celebrate Independence Day.

Actually, that's fake news. My stepmother had it custom-made in Juarez after I casually mentioned how cool a piñata that looked like the Lacoste logo (which the French company identifies as a crocodile) would be. In just a day, a couple of Vermont thunderstorms washed away four decades of dust it had accumulated lying-in-wait on top of a pair of bookcases at 47 Pianos.

Thom and I arrived the night before Magda, Joe and D-Kids. Without paying much attention to the weather forecast, we went on a walking tour of Quechee first-thing Thursday morning. Ya gotta love a small-town library.

The Quechee Church is open to all Christian denominations.

For a state as white as Vermont, it takes Black history pretty seriously.

Adirondack chairs could be glimpsed across the Ottauquechee River.

One of Vermont's hundred covered bridges crosses it.

Look what happened when the river rose eleven feet during Hurricane Irene. A sudden thunderstorm forced Thom and I to take refuge in the basement of a Simon Pearce glassblowing factory, powered by the rapids outside. Quechee's hot air balloon festival had taken place two weeks earlier.

Employees craft expensive glassware sold in the show room upstairs. When Joe rescued us, he self-purchased his birthday and Father's Day gift from Magda: a pair of whiskey glasses for $90 each. It was news to her!

Wooden blowpipes and other tools comprise a striking, three-dimensional collage hanging in the visitor's area.

In addition to the showroom, there's a classy bar and restaurant upstairs. Neither were open so early in the day.

After high winds and thunderstorms closed the pool at the Quechee Club, we dined at a pizzeria in Bridgewater which also included an arcade. Della and Dagny proved to be equally adept at shaking down cash contributions and scooping up rubber duckies.

They even spent a little of their allowances unsuccessfully trying to win plush toys.

Meanwhile, Thom and Desi continues an unexpected bromance that had started at the pool.

On a Friday morning hike, Della demanded to know where the dinosaur tracks were.

A seesaw hidden in the woods and a pretty fast merry-go-road at Lake Pinneo later that afternoon enabled the D-Kids to burn off some energy. Magda and Joe subscribe to what I call the shark school of parenting: keep them moving at all times.

Dagny's fashion sense definitely doesn't include camouflage.

Desi, like Thom, can nap anywhere.

It turned out the still sodden piñata lacked a plug so it remained forever-unfilled with candy. That absence didn't diminish the D-Girls's bloodlust. Joe, Magda and I got several whacks in as well. Newspapers inside were dated 1987, a year after Magda was born which raises the question: why didn't I give it to her or Zoltan when they were young children? Because it was a crucial element of my apartment's decor which Audrey once accurately described as "late-college." The de-accessioning era continues, here literally in full swing!

Thom presented the kids their new outfits afterward. Too bad Dagny didn't embrace the Parisian look. It really suits her.

I brought the D-Girls personalized key chains in Williamsburg when my friends from Colorado visited the week before. They include tiny states of Vermont (Massachusetts was out of stock) and peace signs as well as unicorns, the first letters of their names, lips and an eye.

All the D-Kids got a ride in Delia. Dagny and Della quickly mastered turning up the music volume to accelerate the car, and Desi looked truly awestruck when Thom put the top up. Just call us the fun uncles.

I had to fend off an attack from a piñata basher before our departure Saturday morning. Fortunately, the inflatable Pittsburgh Pirates bat couldn't do much damage. Wherever did I pick that up? From the secret drawer, of course! Soon to become the portable secret drawer since it's unlikely the D-Kids will ever visit 47 Pianos.