Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawn. Back...from...."vacation". And, yes, I did say vacation very hesitantly. Why? Because we were in Disney. And Disney DOES NOT equal vacation when you're over eighteen. When you have exceeded your teenage years the equation becomes very, very different. It goes something like this:
Disney = plane trip with toddler + 10 lbs. of electronic games to keep toddler busy during plane trip + long lines in airport with cranky toddler who just wants to see Mickey + rushing to catch shuttle buses to hotel + long lines to check into hotel room + soothing a toddler who still just wants to see Mickey + rushing to catch another shuttle to get to park in same clothes you've been wearing since 4 a.m. because there's no time to change + long lines to have your 20 lb. backpack (that you've expertly jammed 35 lbs. of necessities into JUST RIGHT) be ripped apart by security as you enter the park while your toddler jumps up and down because he sees pictures of Mickey who he just wants to see in person + walking for 8 more hours through the park to stand in lines to get on rides that bring you just to the point of vomitus maximus + dining on chicken fingers and french fries that your toddler thinks is gourmet and you think is going to send you straight to your primary care doc for some heavy doses of Lipitor + carrying a camera and video camera around every single moment of every single day because all of this mayhem and madness ultimately and eventually alllll equals one very fine result.....the absolute time of our lives. Thanks Disney. You made Zeke's 4th birthday pretty awesome.