This should come as no surprise, because I'm a different kind of nut, but I have zero plans to ever take my kids to Disney World. Not my bag. I didn't go until I was in my 20s, and I came out ok. Well, that's debatable, but after that trip, I seriously thought:
1. Why would any parent come to this hell on earth? (I believe it was approximately 212+ degrees every day that week.) Every parent seemed completely MISERABLE. I really think we were the only 2 happy people there. Well, us and Goofy.
2. You know, what? I think I'm good on kids for a while. Really. That trip delayed us having kids at least 7 years.
I broke the news to our children a long time ago that they'll never be going (with us), and they are welcome to buy season passes or move into the flippin' castle once they are up and out. To ease the pain, I did tell them that I'll be happy to take them to Pleasure Pier as often as they want.
When my poor Winston was in some serious need of TLC and cheering up after his dog bite, two of our favorite friends came with us and we boogied on down to Pleasure Pier for some cheer--bonus if you go at sunset.
We just came back from a whirlwind trip to Atlanta for Daney's wedding.
My poor Texas babies. We were walking around Decatur on a beautiful but chilly morning before the wedding, and Birdie says, "I know this is Hotlanta, but I am freezing!"
This was Birdie's first wedding. She was counting down the days for about a month.
She was definitely into it. Are you surprised?
Oh, my darling boy. This sweet, sweet child had just gotten over a nasty stomach bug the day before. I almost left the boys at home because he was so sick, but he really wanted to go. He did fine on the flight and at the wedding. Little did I know, 7 hours after this, we'd be requesting all new linens for the hotel room bed from the projectile...um, grossness. Too much partying, not enough recovering.
The best table in the house:
Look who was handed a bouquet from the bride herself?