I stand on the steps in an alleyway in Bellagio and lean over my very pregnant belly, trying to catch my breath. Quaint little shops line the stairway on either side, with hanging baskets outside their window, offering pizza, or wine, or beautiful painting. None of this impresses my toddler, however, who is on the hunt for nothing less than gelato.
“Up, Mama, up!” my daughter says as she continues to climb the steps, unfazed completely by the steep incline. She continues to climb, singing, “Gelato, gelato, where are you?”
