I’ve had a sort of epiphany over the course of my travels this last week. It used to be that when I went on a vacation, it was relaxing, fun, and enjoyable: in short, a vacation. I imagine it will be something like that again when I’ve thrown out all my children. However.
Vacationing with small children has once more broadened my appreciation of my own mother and father, proud parents of five once small children. It also makes me realize I don’t remember going on many vacations when we were little, which probably also makes them the wise parents of five once small children. (They probably laugh their heads off watching me try to wrangle my little monsters.) I found myself frequently saying things like “We’re almost there, honey, calm down.” and “Sweetheart, Mommy has a special treat for you if you can use your calm voice.” and “Boys, it is nap time (or night time). Go to sleep. Mommy wants sleep. WHY WON’T YOU SLEEP?” To be fair, they both did remarkably well, given the lifestyle we forced on them for a week. We became veritable gypsies, sleeping in a different place every night, and performing neat toddler tricks for our food. Since last posting, I have levelled up to Master Carseat Nurser, which is a class I wouldn’t not have imagined possible in my pre-baby days, and Robert became a Grandmaster Meltdown Diffuser, and we’re not talking about the children’s meltdowns.
On the way out of the airport back home in sweet, sweet Fairbanks, Alaska, Robert and I looked over at one another, he carrying a Herculean load of gifts from grandparents and other relatives, and I carrying an infant on one arm and dragging a screaming toddler away from yet another vending machine, and we both decided that, some beautiful day, we needed a vacation sans enfants. Hello, Grandma.
So… that said, I haven’t finished the next page of the comic. Shocking, I know, but here is yet another cheater update of Dead Timmy novelization. Enjoy!
