We’re getting ready to go to Germany for a week. With two little kids. A three and a half year old, and a not quite 3 month old. Enough said.
Obviously a lot of preparation goes into hauling a family of 4 overseas for a week, which means making a lot of lists and checking them twice. In an attempt to be uber-organized, I made a list of the clothing items to be packed for each family member. Last night I handed my husband, a notorious over-packer, his list. (The man carted a corduroy sports jacket all across Europe last summer just ‘in case.’)
I was summoned within minutes. ‘You didn’t put pants on my list,’ he said. (My husband also struggles occasionally with finding things right in front of him). ‘Umh, yes I did.’ ‘Show me,’ he challenged. I grabbed the list, already feeling the momentary joy of a small victory, and, sure enough….I omitted the crucial pants/jeans/trousers category…. on his list AND mine. Thankfully one of us is paying attention.
Around 10pm or so, we’re reviewing lists and discussing logistics when I hear a stomping noise coming from the boys’ room. ‘What’s that?’ J stops to listen. ‘I think your son is doing the motions for ‘if you’re happy and you know it.’ Sure enough, as soon as we stop talking, the muffled refrain of ‘stomp your feet….’, (accompanied by his feet stomping against the wall), emanates from the room, followed by a very loud and enthusiastic ‘hurray.’
We laugh until we almost cry… picturing that little man in the room next to ours, lying on his back in the dark, while stomping his feet against the (no longer) white wall and shouting ‘hurray’. Amazingly, his baby brother sleeps through it all.
The trip should be fun.