Road Trip

"I have some bad news," John said one night at dinner, "I have to go to (sunny) Florida for a few days (and sleep in a hotel with a big comfy bed and people who clean up the room every day) and help out with a project on a ship (that is floating in beautiful blue water, outside in the 80 degree weather." OK, so the parentheses are mine, but still it was a sucker punch to the gut that John was leaving me alone with Mr. 5:20 am and the sleety, rainy, cold Seattle spring. I immediately got on the phone and called my friend Sara, who lives in Portland, and told her that Owen and I were coming to visit for a few days. I thought I was being brave and adventuresome, taking the little guy on a road trip. Sara thought different, "Chicken," she said. She was right, but I didn't care. Better to be a sane chicken than an insane martyr.

Owen and I dropped John at the airport on Wednesday morning and then I drove like a cautious bat-out-of-hell to get most of the way there before Owen woke up. He slept like a rock and didn't wake up until 20 minutes before we got there. It was a hairy 20 minutes, though, with me throwing toys over the seat, aiming for his lap, and singing "Skinnamirinkidink" to keep his screaming a few decibels below eardrum rupturing.

We had a warm welcome from Sara and her 2-year-old son, Finley, as well as the kitty, Alice, and their dog, Katie. Ted, Sara's husband, was out getting a root canal. This, I thought, was brilliant planning on Ted's part. If you are having a 9 month old coming to stay with you, better to get some prescription painkillers and a legitimate excuse to take them, if you can.

The Hobbs were excellent hosts, feeding me, entertaining Owen, making me the most excellent ice cream Sundae, calling Owen smart and adorable, and giving me hints as to what's to come (The Wiggles.) Finley was quite sweet with Owen, even though he didn't quite get why he had to be gentle with baby Owen but baby Owen could yank his hair; why he had to share his toys with baby Owen, but baby Owen could grab toys away from him; why he had to be quiet, but baby Owen could scream and cry. Finley got a wee bit of revenge when they boys took a bath together (Owen's first in a real tub!) He cleverly waited until Sara and I were occupied with trying to take some pics of them and then quickly grabbed a big bucketful of water and dumped it on Owen's head. Not to be outdone, Owen managed to grab the plug and pull it to drain the tub. Ah, friends!

The sweetest moment came when Sara and I were in the kitchen with Finley and Owen was in the living room, (briefly) unattended. I heard his sweet, gurgly laugh and peeked around the corner to see Katie (the dog) giving Owen big licks on the face.

We made it home without a hitch on Friday and were thrilled to see John Saturday morning, even if he did have a tan.