If I controlled the world, I’d make all my friends live where I choose to live. Sadly, I’m not in charge. Unless you are Charles and Jamie and Buster. Then I am most definitely in charge.
Consequently, if I want to see friends, they either have to visit me or I have to visit them. It goes without saying that before I had children, it was a lot easier to go see friends in far-flung locales. Now, however, I have to cart carseats and snacks and diapers and toys and books and many changes of clothing where ever we go.
On Thursday, we said goodbye to Tony, goodbye to Buster, and goodbye to snow and hopped a plane to Phoenix to visit Liz. My mom came, too, keeping the adult-to-child ratio at 1-1 for the travel period and bumping us up to 3-to-2 while in Phoenix (this was ideal). The weather was perfect. The company was excellent. And the plane rides were encouraging – I’m now feeling more confident that we can make a much longer flight to France later this spring.
While in Phoenix, we did a lot of playing. That’s certainly something else that has changed since having kids: when I travel with them, the trip becomes necessarily for them. Meaning, I write off most of the things that I want to do, or would do if I were there alone. No adventurous dining. No wine bars. No adult museums. No long car trips.
Instead, we spent most of our time at the Train Park and at the Phoenix Children’s Museum (which was HUGE). I probably don’t need to tell you how much fun that was for Charles. See for yourself the level of mirth: