I just thought that for all you schadenfreude types out there I should come clean about part of the vacation we just had. Specifically, the part where the wee-er one had to lay her face in my lap in the "sterile" room at urgent care while the doc drained and packed an infected bug bite. (side note: BARF)
An infected bite, I might add, on the wee-er one's butt cheek. (Of course)
And then there was the part with the antibiotics and the incidental pooping troubles and the Very Important Rules to stay out of both the sun and the water (not awesome rules for when you're in Florida).
HOWEVER, the wee-er one was very stoic about the whole thing and since she was never 100% keen on the ocean anyway, she was more than happy to be pampered and fawned over up in the condo while the grown-ups took turns romping in the sand and seaweed.
As suggested by a friend on Facebook, I think my next book might be of the coffee table variety: pages of large, glossy pictures under the title Urgent Care Centers of the Deep South.
Anyway, it was still a beautiful, wonderful, lovely, awesome, inspiring, long-awaited, gorgeous, fun vacation but I thought – just to keep it real, you know – y'all would enjoy knowing that it wasn't perfect.
It was close, though. And now we have yet another (one day) hilarious butt story to add to the family collection.