Russian Roulette in Charlottesville

It was indeed, most fortuitous that I instituted my “car test” while dating Jason, since our vehicle has become like the second vacation home most people purchase at the beach.

While traveling, dining out with children is like playing Russian Roulette: Often, you evade the toddler tantrum, like a skilled parental operative. Yet, on occasion, you get shot with the mortifying meltdown, while the waiter (who initially wanted to be your best friend) watches on, contemplating sterilization. It’s playing with palatable fire.

This week, while traveling, our Russian handgun had two bullets: Eowyn managed to perform successive horrific acts at two separate- but now unforgettable- local bistros. Act I occurred while awaiting our dinner confined to a booth where she grew more restless by the moment, the crescendo before the grand finale: Then, for sport, she stuck both hands down her tiny throat…and vomited EVERYWHERE. Act II transpired just this afternoon at the close of our meal whereupon she elected to stand up on the booth and urinate for a full twenty-three seconds all over the seat. Her accident left me splattered upon, speechless and penitent- I will never again bribe her with a mini Reese’s cup to “hold it” for just one more minute. It was not worth the 50% tip we were obliged to leave for the waitress.

Fortunately, our accommodations vastly improved in comparison to the dorm room we shared in Alabama... for a month. Caid upgraded from the closet floor to a luxurious pack n’ play, over which we have tossed a sheet to create the illusion of darkness. As well, Eowyn had four pools at her disposal- around which I am often reminded of the social anomaly that is public bathing. In any other circumstance, an inordinate exposure of naked flesh while idly floating in close proximity to complete strangers in a tank of water- warmed by the urine of the unknown child splashing you in the face would hardly be permissible, legal or fun. And yet, Eowyn loves this pastime almost as much as I love not wearing a maternity swim-dress this summer.

In close, daily, the Boar’s Head Inn offered complimentary coffee –undoubtedly, the best coffee I have had since Slovenia. And as caffeine addicts everywhere know, fabulous coffee makes the world a better place. . . even with a vomiting toddler as your dining companion.

My Kohr's Convert
An Illegal Picking
An Exciting Photo in Monroe's Kitchen
President Monroe's Front Lawn- Yes, we're Nerds.
We love throwing kids in the air