For those of you who are familiar with our family, you know that we have not flown with the kiblets EVER. Until now. Recently, our generous, and brave, and very cool cousins, invited us on a trip to Maui with them. Offers like this do not come by (especially to families with three young children) too often, so naturally, we took them up on it.
Having not flown since prior to 9-11, and never with young children before, I was anticipating the flight from hell. Of course, friends have crossed the Atlantic on 14-hr journeys with mulitple children by themselves and here I was, laden with backpacks filled with distractions for a mere 6 hours for a little hop across the Pacific. We all survived, backpacks for the most part untouched, completely overpacked for our stay in paradise.
Our too short stay there was heavenly. We swam, snorkeled, paddled, sunned, and ate shave ice to our hearts content. And while we were unable to purchase the lovely T-shirts that boast, "I Survived the Road to Hana" as we only made it to mile marker 31 before christening the sand bucket, the Road to Hana will forever be a threat daddy can use when the girls get too unruly in the car!
Now that we're home, the time change and the late night flight are taking a toll on my novice travelers. I wisely kept the girls home from school today, despite Alison getting dressed in her uniform at 7:50 this morning. It turned out to be a good decision because by midday, she had shut the car door on her own head and tripped on Jake and done a face-plant. By this evening, she was in hysterics because she had a booger (her own, mind you) on her hand.
Aloha, dear friends. I certainly hope it won't be another 11 years before we return. But for now, I think it's time for everyone to go to bed!
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