My parents came down last week to watch Eleanor while Greg and I took a vacation. A kid-free vacation. Do you hear the angels singing?
I don’t want to give the impression that Greg and I dislike our daughter, but traveling with her isn’t a vacation. In fact, someone should pay us to travel with her. Hmm. There’s a thought. Does anyone want to pay to hear my story about a toddler throwing up in the middle of O’Hare airport? No?
So, with just one bag and one backpack, I whisked Greg away to Sedona, Ariz., for five days. We revelled in our freedom (see more of us revelling here), amazed at how fortunate we were.
And then we arrived home to find Eleanor had changed. Changed in a most unpleasant way. Instead of her usual 6:30 or 7 a.m. wakeup, she was getting up at 5:30 a.m. Sometimes 5:15.
Now I don’t want to say that this is anyone’s fault, and certainly not the fault of a grandpa who likes to get up at, oh, about 5:15 or 5:30. Let’s just say that someone might be getting some sleeping pills slipped into his drinks during future visits.