and the award goes to. . .

We're in Mississippi--again!! We're on one last before-school-starts trip to see Kev. It was a very boring, uninspiring trip down here. . .until we were five minutes from our destination. That's when Kady decided she had to go to the bathroom and SHE COULD NOT WAIT. If you have kids, you know that when kid has to go, you better find a bathroom NOW. We stopped at the first gas station we came to, with Kady assuring me the entire time that she was JUST ABOUT TO GO--NOW!! We took one look at the bathroom, and I freaked. I've seen nasty, but this was radioactive. (Brief synopsis: unisex bathroom with visual filth, dirty mop and mop water in front of toilet, broken-long-ago soap dispenser and sink, mysterious cup sitting next to toilet, etc.) I immediately threatened my daughter within an inch of her life if she touched anything--including the sink. (I asked if she was sure she couldn't wait, and ever the optimist, she said, "um, maybe I can wait," as she danced in place. . .) I held her over the toilet and we did the "hover pee" maneuver that many of us perfected back when gas stations had outside bathrooms with keys the size of a yardstick that you had to go inside and ask for(remember those?). We then found anything we could thing of to try to sanitize our hands, e.g., Germ-X, saniwipes, bleach, mysterious acid found in car. . .The wait is on to see if we caught something contagious. . .If you need to know where the nastiest bathroom in America is, I can show you--well, at least tell you. I'm not ever going back there!

Mickey Mouse, a Dream, and a Rebel Named Nutt

Alternately Titled: I've ruined her geography skills for life or Squashing a Dream

Some people give birth to children that have MAD geography SkILz. I do not. Sure, my daughter can find her way around the small town of Paradise, but then, if you can walk in a straight line, so can you. The problem became apparent when Kev began talking about a job in Florida, you know, where the mouse with big ears and the princess in a shiny palace live. Ssssooooo, like so many insane parents out there, we tentatively began (possibly) planning a summer getaway to Disney World.

Alas, the job in Florida was not to be. Instead, Kev wound up in Mississippi--still hot, still a Southern state, but not quite the same. Kady, however, became completely confused. This confusion grew as our impending travel date to Mississippi grew closer. Somehow, my attempts to ease this confusion made it worse. Our conversations went something like this.

Kady: I want to go to Mickey-ippi.

Me: We ARE, but we're not going to Disney World.

Kady: Uh-huh. I want to go to Mickey-ippi AND go to MICKEY'S HOUSE.

(At which time, she would become so excited that all rationalization was lost.)

Thus, I fear her attitude towards Mississippi shall forever be biased. . .although on the plus side, this could insure that I NEVER, EVER have to cheer for this man again. . .

Thank you, Mickey-ippi, thank YOU.

those crazy americans

I have a well-traveled friend ("Mrs. C"). She's always going on one vacation or another. I, on the other hand, have never travelled to exotic locales and am always interested in hearing more about one place or another. Mrs. C apparently has specific packing requirements for each of her trips, which she passes along to all who accompany her. It was with much laughter that Mrs. C and a fellow traveller relayed this story.

Mrs. C enjoys bringing many souvenirs back from her travels, and is thus, always looking for more room in her suitcase. Therefore, she throws her dirty underwear away. (Her rationale? "Who wants to carry dirty underwear around for a couple of weeks?") This has proved quite useful on several trips. However, on her first trip to Paris, Mrs. C must have royally confused the housekeeper. The poor housekeeper found dirty underwear in the trashcan EVERY DAY, but she dutifully folded it up and placed it near Mrs. C's bags. Can't you hear her muttering now? "Crazy Americans--this is no laundry service!"