Just getting to Disneyland was definitely an experience. We packed the car at 4:30 and were on the road by 5am. Our son (who normally sleeps soundly til 7:30 or so) was utterly confused when we ripped him from his sleep, threw him into a clean change of clothes, and shoved a bottle into his mouth as we walked out the door.
When I buckled him into his carseat I noticed Little Man's hair was in full-out riot mode. Some curls were going south while others were headed north. Most were just standing on end demanding attention. But I was not about to invoke The Rage, so my husband and I, our son, and his beastly hair, headed off the airport.
We made one important stop to pick up my husband's younger brothers. They were standing in the dark at the end of the driveway. The fourteen year old was sleeping standing up, held up only by the gentle breeze and sheer teenage will. The twenty year old was grinning broadly enough to illuminate a city block, but, he, too, looked ready to pass out from exhaustion.
Somehow the five of us made our way to the airport, and had an uneventful trip through check-in and security. I was actually a little annoyed at the lack of trouble we experienced.
I'm no masochist, but I expected a question from somebody along the way. No one questioned why the quintet was travelling together, or who was the legal parent of the fourteen year old. Although I am only 13 years older than him and a mere SEVEN and a half years older than the twenty year old, I cannot count how many times people referred to the boys as "your sons". Even the customs officials, who held the passports with "Mom's" birth year as 1981 and "son's" birth year as 1989 didn't seem to notice.
Assumed old age aside, it was a great journey south. All our luggage arrived, and our little guy slept intermittantly throughout the trip.
That might explain why he poked me in the eye at 11pm and demanded "more fiyerworks, Momma", but that's another story....
No comments:
Post a Comment