We had our first experience with the kids in a hotel. I learned a lot.
The room was really set up for me. All the surfaces, including the sink, were low, a bonus for a short person. Not a bonus for a short person, with toddlers, who wants to sit and eat a sandwich and watch the television.
One of CJ’s favorite things is ice, and here, right in front of him, was a bucket full of it. I don’t think he knew that much could exist, and there was nowhere to put it out of his reach. Heck, even the fridge was within his grasp. As was the door that’s latch was on the loose side. As were the television buttons.
Within minutes of entering the room, we had to disconnect the phone because Leila was talking on it and pressing buttons. You know she would have managed to call Luxembourg, and it would have ended up cheaper to buy the motel than pay the long distance bill. Honestly, until Saturday night, I wasn’t sure they knew what a lan line phone was for.
We decided to get a room with a king sized bed. Even at home, the kids end up in our bed every night, so there is no chance they won’t when we are away. It was easier to just start out that way. In theory. Apparently, in her sleep, Leila mistook the new environment for an obstacle course with John and I being the obstacles. Her favorite obstacle was John’s head though she might have thought that was a sparring dummy with the amount of kicking it she did. Maybe she is a Potential. At one point she, for her own reasons, crawled to the bottom corner of the bed and just passed out there, face down, sprawled. I ended up sleeping with my head down next to her, with my hand on her, so she wouldn’t roll off the bed. I wasn’t about to move her once she actually fell asleep.
CJ, you ask? He pretty much slept through it all.
In the morning, there were really only two things that were going to make John and me functional, showers and hot beverages of the Starbucks variety.
Another feature of the short person’s motel room was a massaging shower head I could reach. I know, right? So that helped, you know, my shoulders and my forehead. Ahem.
No really because the bathroom door wouldn’t shut properly, and CJ was making regular mommy checks.