Vacations illness stuff...
Here are some random notes from the past month or so.
The little milestones sometimes matter so much more than the big ones. My husband taught my 3-year-old son that vomit goes into the toilet. This means A LOT to me.
In St. Louis, it takes four people to figure out how to do anything, including how to print a receipt for a rental car and how to get a price check on a pair of shorts. Or maybe it only takes four people when your toddler is exhausted because it's crazy late or really upset and just had an accident.
The Verizon Wireless "Can you hear me now" dude apparently has not been to large parts of rural Missouri.
There are no gas stations close to the Alamo/National rental dropoff in downtown Chicago.
Caves are not necessarily a good time for a 3-year-old.
When we visited the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, my first thought was "It'd be really cool to BASE jump off of that!" even though I've never BASE jumped and never particularly had the urge. (Skydiving, yes, but BASE jumping is a little too risky.) When we got to the top, the windows were so tiny that there's no way a normal adult could squeeze through them, but I was still intrigued by the idea, so I asked one of the guards. He seemed rather offended that I asked, but said that one person had done it but was caught. I asked how the guy got out, and he wouldn't tell me, but said the guy didn't go up the outside. Apparently that wasn't true.
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