- It is rainy.
- It is fairly cool.
- I never saw a single bug.
- You can walk to town.
- The farmer’s market has great deals.
- If it stops raining, there is a breeze.
Traveling with a toddler is an interesting experience. I learned a lot before boarding the plane at 6:00am.
1. YOU NEED A VISA TO TRAVEL TO CANADA!!!!
2. Everyone in line behind us at the ticket counter is going to wait, because Munchkin is going to climb across the luggage scale and demand a hug from each of the five people working the counter. This will prompt them to stop working and congregate around Munchkin with adoration.
3. No matter how many times You explain that luggage has to go in the airplane’s trunk, when they take the luggage away, trauma will ensue. Catching Munchkin when she lunges across the luggage scales and tries to rescue the luggage as it disappears on the conveyor belt takes three adults.
4. When a three-year old wants to see the plane out the window, the grown man sleeping in front of the window makes a useful step stool.
Me: Apparently, my phone has been streaming Netflix all morning!
Boss: What has your phone been entertaining itself with?
Me: Deep Space Nine! I have to figure out where I was in the series!
Boss: Why are you watching Deep Space Nine?
Me: Um… Because it is the best of the franchise.
Boss: Please. I am an Original Series guy. Deep Space Nine isn’t any good.
Me: I’m sorry. I can’t work here anymore.
Me: Look at how beautiful that is! All those neat packing cubes for me and Munchkin. All I have to do is put them in suitcases!
Brain: Did you pack underwear yet?
Me: I don’t think so.
Me: Probably not.
Brain: Where are the cold weather clothes versus the hot weather clothes?
Brain: Did you remember to pack pants?
Me: Surely there is a pair of pants in there somewhere. Right?
Brain: Where is what Munchkin is supposed to wear on the plane?
Brain: Is there a hairbrush? Where are your contact lens supplies?
Me: I have to open all these cubes, sort, review, and repack, don’t I?
Brain: Yep. Congratulations! Your attempt at preparation has resulted in double the work and half the efficiency!
Brain: You are a complete idiot.
Me: I booked the hotel for the 23rd, not the 5th.
Me: Normally, I would assume it was my error, but I had to use the drop down calendar thingy. I know I did it right.
Brain: But you didn’t read your confirmation carefully and have no proof.
Me: I know!
Brain: You are a complete failure. You do realize that for what you will be spending for two hotels, you could have stayed at the swanky places in the heart of Vancouver.
Me: I hate this.
Brain: And don’t think I didn’t see you use Tweetdeck for #PitMad tomorrow: three books, twelve entries, tens of thousands of people judging you. I can’t even calculate the number of failures that will be.
Me: At least, I gave it a shot.
Brain: Shots are good. See if you can find some Everclear. Shots of Everclear or maybe lighter fluid.
Public nudity, pets, and ethics… And we were closed due to Irma today.
Me: I love daycare. I miss daycare. Daycare is my favorite.
Brain: Work is closed at least through tomorrow. You haven’t made it even halfway through this.
Me: I love daycare.
Brain: You are supposed to be agonizing over the fact that you aren’t a stay-at-home mom. Where is the gender-specific self-flagellation?
Me: Nope. Nuh-uh. I love my job. I love daycare.
Brain: I’m not sure how to handle this lack of self-loathing… Did the internet just flicker?
Me: NOBODY PANIC!!!! Wait. That’s not right. EVERYBODY PANIC!!!
Me: Those grocery shoppers were rank amateurs.
Brain: For once, we agree. They had completely cleared out the bottled water. Irma won’t even be here for four days.
Me: I notice everything we know to buy was well-stocked.
Brain: Yep. We have plenty of heavily processed foods, soup, sodas, juice, carbonated water, crackers, chips, a few too many bottles of wine, and ample toilet paper.
Me: I will get gas and adult beverages tomorrow.
Brain: You are actually pretty good at this.
Me: Thank you.
Brain: You are highly skilled at preparing to sit on your ass for several days in junk-food heaven.
Me: Everyone has a talent.
Brain: This is a bad idea.
Me: I am in agony. I have to do this.
Brain: Please don’t.
Me: *lies down on office floor with tennis ball under back and rocks on tennis ball*
Voice: Are you okay?
Me: *rolls backward, slams head on floor, curses virulently*
Voice: That looked painful.
Me: *looks up to see boss’s boss* Um…
Brain: Quick! Say something clever!
Me: It’s a muscle thing.
Boss’s Boss: *takes cautious step back*
Me: *struggles to sit up*
Boss’s Boss: I’ll come back. *flees*
Brain: The sad thing is that you loved working here.
Me: I signed up to attend the meet and greet on the cruise! This is going to be fantastic!
Brain: What is going to be fantastic? Standing around awkwardly? Hiding in the corner, embarrassed that you are not part of a conversation, while actively avoiding social interaction? Feeling that anxiety knot in your stomach?
Me: Please. This is going to be different. It’s at a place called The Crow’s Nest. The directions are Deck 10 – Forward. That means –
Brain: Don’t say it. Please don’t say it.
Me: I am attending a party at Ten Forward! TEN FORWARD!
Brain: You are expecting people to be cosplaying Star Trek: TNG aren’t you?
Me: Ten Forward! It is like a dream come true.
Brain: Look, I don’t know how to tell you this, but Whoopie Goldberg will not be mixing drinks and doling out sage advice.
Me: I wish it were after dark so we could watch the stars streak by us.
Brain: No one else is going to get the reference –
Me: I hope I can order a Samaritan Sunset.
Brain: I hope no one throws you overboard.