Dad used to say that there were two ways to travel: First class and with children.
I didn't get it.
Now, I do.
Eleven nights away from home, 200 pounds of luggage, some incontinence from one four-year-old member of our party, and a good bit of WHINING and we are home and tired.
We DID have a fabulous time.
But, seriously... is there no where better to throw up than on your stuffed animal, your mother and in the bed at the hotel when there are only six possible hours to get sleep?
Actually, we answered this question on the way home, try in your only clothes, in a plane, on yourself and your father, when you will have to deplane in snowy weather mostly naked covered with puke (and many thanks to USAir that offered to sell us a 10 dollar blanket rather than give us one under the circumstances (no thanks, jerks).
Back to the old routine.
