Night one of the family trip, and my dad scheduled the big, fancy, 6-course restaurant for the night of arrival. In his defense, it’s the only night it’s open while we’re on property, but in my defense, I told him my 2 and 4 year old couldn’t handle a 2+ hour dinner.
No one cares what I say. So we went.
My boys were all over the dance floor and I was told by the staff they couldn’t go out there anymore. Ok. I get it. Fair enough. Then my dad told me to get Bryson under control once, then twice.
So I left with both boys. I told Hottie to stay so that we don’t hear about the money we wasted by leaving. He knew I was right, that was best. He went back to drink my wine and eat his dinner (my dad said they’d box mine up. Ummm… No thank you.)
The boys and I are in the suite, eating 5 star cookies for dinner. I told them it was a “fuck it dinner,” and they obliged. Ha! 😉 I even had Matthew say, “it’s a fuck it dinner!”
Honestly…. I think we’re the winners.
All tension gone. The fine clothing is hung back up, and we’re being real.
How’s that for getting my kids under control? 😉
Added bonus, this way of traveling and eating is totally keeping my calories in line. 6 course meal starting with pork belly (yuck!) or one cookie?