"room service? yes, I'd like to order up some bacon. all of it. thanks."
FDR loves hotels.
Lucy especially loves to stay in a hotel, particularly if it comes with the promise of a pool, a telephone, and some bacon for breakfast. This is an easy-to-please girl, my friends. Peter appreciates that we give him free reign for jumping on beds, jumping off of beds, and other furniture-breaking feats of adventure. (To say nothing of bone-breaking...)
Thomas brought along that baby in the mirror;
no mirrors were broken on this trip (unlike last summer)
We made a pit-stop somewhere in Ohio to break up the drive to Michigan. I've been trying to write a sentence about the hotel which is funny and factual and not at all insulting to Kevin, who booked the room, but it's not easy. So here are some facts: the hotel was cheap. It was very cheap. It lacked basic amenities ( (a clock) and some necessities (light bulbs). We didn't pay very much for it, and we stayed there for only one night, and the children didn't even really notice that it was a dive, and we didn't get bed bugs. So there.
obligatory bed bouncing; parent's gym shorts optional
Kevin and I have a minor history of staying in dive hotels, from our grad school days when we had about 500 percent more disposable income than we do now. (Thank you, generous grad school fellowships!) Then, we stayed in two pretty horrible hotels back-to-back on our drive out to California, and, after I flat-out refused to stay at the hotel in North Little Rock, I lost my taste for well-worn carpet and pillows that always smell a little funny and beds that sag just a little too much.
Our Michigan hotel, while not by any means luxurious, still made us wish we could live there forever. For realsies, as the children would say. Between the two full bathroom and the dishwasher and the fact that someone would come and clean it everysingleday, it was a significant upgrade on our current living situation.
Well, there was that night a man literally walked into our room while the kids were asleep and Kevin and I were enjoying the rare treat of cable television. Yikes! I shrieked, the man cursed, and all was well.
Lucy never did get her bacon, although in retrospect this may be a good thing since she vowed to eat all of it, and I'm not stepping between her and cured pork products any time soon.
Comments