Captain Daddy, on the plane over as Chicken Little climbs him like King Kong on the Empire State Building, roaring and kicking: “Kill me now.”
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Captain Daddy, night one, 2 a.m.: “Are you going to take her to the ER or am I?”
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R (age 6) to Chicken Noodle (age 4), day two: “Don’t talk to me. Ever again.”
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Captain Daddy, day two: “Where is Little’s blankie?”
Me: “With Noodle’s sweater. On the plane.”
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My sister, day three: “I had a dream that a nice normal family wanted to adopt me.”
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Chicken Little, night four, 3 a.m.: “I kattack you big fat mommy!”
Chicken Little, night four, 3 a.m.: “I kattack you big fat mommy!”
Me: “Middle-of-the-night time is for sleeping, baby. No kattacking.”
Chicken Little: “Kattack kattack!” (thump)
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Me, day five: “Family vacations are about tradeoffs. You get this (gesturing to vast stunning tropical landscape). But you have to give up sanity.”
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My mother, day six: “I used to think happiness was everyone I love in the same room. I’ve changed my mind.”
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Me, day seven: “Sometimes you’re the pickaxe, sometimes you’re the coconut.”
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Me, at the airport after our return: “I am not sure I am ever going to do this again.”
My sister: “Nope. See you on Facebook.”
