The last part of our trip was devoted to the Utah desert in all its glory. As I mentioned in my last post, it was as hot as Hades in Moab. So we did what all of the locals and tourists do. We woke up early every morning, much to Sophie’s chagrin. Comments like, “Mom! Why are you doing this to me?” “Why are you torturing me? ” “This is not a vacation!” were inevitably accompanied by cold hard stares, harumpfs and groans.
As we prepare to leave for our next adventure to the Utah national parks (with a detour to the Grand Canyon-North Rim), I’ve had an epiphany. I now know why I am always so excited to arrive at our destination. Our arrival signifies that we have survived the frenzy of vacation preparation which, in our house, goes something like this:
(1) My husband and I yell at the kids to start packing their suitcases. We then yell at each other for yelling at the kids. This vicious cycle continues for at least 24-48 hours and we all lose our voices. And yet Chloe still manages to forget a few things. And then she blames us. Because we yelled too much and she couldn’t concentrate on her packing.