Home, Sweet Home

When we came back from La Costa, Mopsy had a hard time settling down to sleep that night. (What else is new?) Suddenly, she burst into tears and cried, "I miss the hotel!" Trying not to laugh, because I, too, missed the lovely hotel, I asked why.

"I miss the bed," she wailed.

Ah, wise child.

For the first time ever on a trip to LA, the kids were a little itchy to get back to Connecticut. "When are we going home?" they started whining three days before our return flight. I took that as a good sign. They'd seen everyone, done all they wanted to do, and were ready to get back to our old routine. It's better than dragging them back to the East Coast kicking and screaming.

On the plane home, QB said, apropos of nothing, "I can't wait to have all my Legos, a TV that I actually know how to use, and sleep in a room that's not 85 degrees!" (You see, although the in -laws have about 15 televisions in the house, each one has about 4 remotes and works differently. No one is very confident about locating any channel other than NBC. And, yes, it was excruciatingly hot. Every time we turned on the air conditioning, it mysteriously turned itself off.)

Glad the kid's got his priorities straight.

I agree, it's SO GREAT to be home. I've never been so happy to be in my own bed, between my own crisp, smooth sheets, with my fluffy down pillow. In fact, I think I'm going to go get in there now.

G'night.