“We’ll figure it out. Together. The trials last a while before they declare a winner,” she said in a barely audible whisper. “Maybe it’s time we considered”—she sighed—"Operation Sunnyside.” I knew it pained her to repeat what I’d affectionately named our backup plan. Operation Sunnyside was our escape from Manhattan. Permanently. It was similar to when the toys escaped the Sunnyside daycare in Toy Story 3. It was costly, and so dangerous it was more like a loosely drafted story outline than what I would consider an actual “plan.” I had fun thinking about it, and I had fun naming it, but it
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