Well, we're off to a somewhat slow start. Kids were great on the plane, but Caroline threw up as soon as we got into the airport, then again while waiting (and waiting. And waiting.) for our bags. And once more while we were loading the car. London is just as cold, grey and expensive as I remember.
Room was ready at the hotel when we arrived (hurrah!), so we settled in, took a lengthy and much-needed nap and ordered room service for lunch.
Plane fare for four: $7000. Porter for 10 bags: $50. Four sandwiches, two bottles of water, two glasses of milk from Savoy room service: $150.00. Exchanged looks with spouse of shock and dismay: Priceless.
Oh, well, it's only money. And hey, we sold our house just before we left! Hurrah, hurrah!
Last night was abysmal. Started off just great - kids in bed by 9, Michele and I watched a little British television (which is strangely not quite as funny as it was when I was just a visitor). Asleep by 11. The fun started at 11:30 when one of the kids woke up. Then the other one woke up. Then we were all up until 3. Fortunately, they slept until noon, but that only means that tonight is going to be more of the same.
Today, we took a walk in a park, had lunch in a little cafe in said park, rode a carousel, rode the London Eye and had an early dinner outside on a boat.
This all sounds very civilised, and it would be but for one thing - children. Trying to find the interesting sights in a strange place while keeping them entertained, fed at regular intervals, and free from greivous bodily harm is probably the least enjoyable exercise I can think of. Michael insists on retrieving every piece of trash he can find. At one point he proudly presented me the still-moist wad of gum recently liberated from the chomping jaws of a none-too-bright girl from California.
Caroline is a bit easier to manage - she generally doesn't do what you tell her not to - but at age 5 she still tires easily, and thus requires quite a lot of coaxing and carrying from her parents, who have really had just about enough of this sight-seeing thing, thank you very much.
Children don't tolerate hunger very well, either. You might think that this low tolerance would give rise to a willingness to eat nearly anything put in front of them, but you'd be wrong. Plain pasta with butter becomes 'yucky' when garnished with a bit of parsley, and a stack of 'chunky chips' (really just extra large French fries) is eyed with the distaste normally reserved for wet wads of gum. Go figure.
We turned a corner, though, on the walk back to the hotel. After a miserable, expensive and largely uneaten meal on the heaving foredeck of the Hispaniola, we thought we'd have a wander back through the same park we'd come through earlier in the day. The same cafe where we'd had lunch now displayed a sign for ice cream. What the hell. The kids deserve a treat for, um, well, for no reason in particular except that we feel compelled to try to provide at least one bright spot.
The ice cream was really very yummy and got a warm reception from the kids, who, reenergised by the sugar, positively danced their way back through the park. Perhaps this traveling with children thing isn't so bad after all.
P.S. it's now 10:50 pm, and the kids are still awake. Well, Caroline's still awake and Michael just woke up. I suspect he thinks it's 6:50pm, that he's just woken from a nice little nap and that shortly he'll be getting a bit of dinner and some play time. Did I mention that traveling with children is about the worst experience imagineable?
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