Of Mice and Bandages
Friday morning we picked Atticus up from school and proceeded to drive south. The car was packed with boys, luggage, and anticipation. There was also a mother-in-law.
Our destination was The Happiest Place on Earth. Our car was a close second. The cars around us ranked from 138 to 106,092, respectively. Their happiness varied.
Two hours later we were on the monorail. The fun was now official.
Tricia and I had tickets to see Jack Johnson that night. Hence the mother-in-law. We brought her for nanny-related purposes. I was also supposed to interview Jack Johnson that night, but apparently his PR person forgot about me and never emailed the final confirmation. Understandable, I only bring 10 million readers to the table. I'm easy to forget. We were looking forward to the show all the same.
We took the boys (and mother-in-law) over to Disney's California Adventure for some quick rope climbing and some unpleasant treatment from Ranger Raymond (not so happy). This is where our getaway would take place, or so we thought.
Zane fell first. One foot through the rope and he was scared and crying. I caught up with them, picked him up and took him to the bottom. I made great time.
Turns out he was hurt. This from the kid that will accept a kiss as ample medical attention on the most ghastly of flesh wounds. We decided first aid was in order.
What happened next will be the subject of folklore and random tales for years to come. It was the minute that we realized just what kind of people we were dealing with. Stroller hacks.
Part, yes part, of our stroller had been stolen. Someone had gone out of their way to rearrange the contents of our stroller- sweatshirts, stuffed animals, kid supplies, none of which they took, and had removed the plastic tray/restraining bar that attaches to both sides of the front seat (it's a Sit and Stand). They stole part of our stroller. Who does that?
Another ten minutes and it would have been on blocks.
First aid determined that Zane had a wrist sprain. It's hurting him still. He got some love and attention and we pressed forward with our plans just as the nurse laughed about bad things happening in threes.
Damn the nurse.
Tricia and I were back in the hotel. We were late and we were sober. I was entertaining thoughts of "love." The phone rang. It was first aid.
Atticus had fallen down doing something he knew better than. Limits are stretched when parents aren't around. He had hit his head. I went downstairs, late and sober, to meet them.
Have you ever walked through Disneyland Resort with a bandaged kid and a bloodied shirt? You tend to get strange looks. People also tend to get out of your way, so there was that.
The nurse, I assume no longer laughing, had suggested that we take him to the hospital. We did. Four hours later he had staples in his head and I had tickets in my pocket. He slept straight on till morning.
Nobody else did. Zane decided that 1a.m. was the perfect time to discuss the lingering pains of his wrist and that fact that he hadn't been fed dinner during our absence. He had enjoyed the hot tub though.
Have you ever walked through Disneyland Resort looking for food at 1a.m.? Chances are you'll still be doing it at 1:30, which I was. I had turned down a plastic cup full of stale, peppered popcorn from The Lost Bar and was starting to regret it. A handful of no help later I found myself in a remote part of the hotel in front of vending machines that I never knew existed. I bought a pop-tart and a granola bar.
By the time I got back to our room he was asleep. Everyone was asleep.
My head was heavy, but not broken, my arms tired, but not sprained. My belly was full. Things were not as they should be and I fell asleep regretting it.