My Great American Travel Adventure: Day 5, I Needed a Break
Day 5 could almost be called a break.
Almost.
It still started at 3:30 a.m. with the youngest screaming, “I want to get out!”
Fortunately, that lasted about 10 minutes before he went back to sleep.
Then, around 6:00 a.m., there was an all-out assault on my old, tired body. Both of them launched themselves into bed while I was sleeping.
How they managed to hit me in the testicles in the dark is a sign of true athletic performance. I’m beginning to think this may be an Olympic event.
Anyway, up we were.
We managed to get them some breakfast, and the bathroom routine was pure comedy. One was in the bathroom while the other was climbing the kitchen counter like a true mountaineer.
I’m beginning to understand why parents drink coffee.
By 8:30, we were out the door and they were at school. It was a full day until 3:00 p.m., which gave my son and me a chance to enjoy a nice, calm breakfast.
I had been jonesing for pancakes at First Watch, and let me tell you, after being attacked in your sleep by two small children, pancakes taste even better.
Once we got home, it was so quiet.
My son got a chance to play some video games, I took a nap, and later we watched a movie on Netflix. We ended up watching Unabomber: In His Own Words, which was ranked number two at the moment. It was actually pretty good.
For a few hours, everything was calm.
No screaming.
No climbing.
No one launching themselves at my testicles.
Just peace.
Of course, all good things must come to an end.
It was time to pick them up.
Back home for a snack and then over to the pool for swim lesson number two.
By the time that was over, my son drove me back to my daughter’s house. In a noise comparison, her house is a morgue.
She cleans.
I sit and watch TV or read.
It’s a beautiful arrangement.
My son is back to work tomorrow for one of his 12-hour shifts, and my daughter-in-law is on child duty. I needed the break. After all, it is vacation.
Saturday, I head south to my parents.
That is another level of mayhem altogether. I call it “Two Weeks in the Asylum.”
More on that later.
Assuming I make it out alive.
I haven’t even been here a week yet, and I’m exhausted.
And somehow, I still have more than a three weeks to go.
Stay tuned.
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