Get the car keys. Put the baby in the car seat, fortified with snacks, water and the funny toy remote control that plays obnoxious music. 

Drive. Up into the hills of Los Feliz where the curves are so sharp and the streets are so narrow that you have to reverse several times as oncoming cars refuse to surrender the road. Almost as if they know you don’t belong here. 

It’s a hobby to drive in an attempt to get lost. Born of a father who always ends up behind the do-not-enter sign and a mother who was raised on road trips. 

Pass the street that ends in a sheer cliff. 
Spy the observatory, its domed shape attempting to blend in with the exotic and ornate homes.

Stop at the pink wall. Just long enough to pretend that this picture is effortless.
Back to the car.
Back to the baby, slightly irked now that he realizes this drive is not just for him. 

Return to the road that, despite your best efforts, takes you back home.