It's the day after coming home from Efteling. Baby M sits on my lap with a Pardoes bag looped over his wrist by big brother V. "Baby M wil dit vasthouden." If you say so, honey.
Honestly, it was a great time, but it will take us both a few days to recover schlepping three kids all over the fairytale forest and beyond. By the second day - desperate to get our money's worth - we were encouraging our exhausted kids into every attraction that we passed. "You're going to have fun, damnit!"
Only Baby M stayed in a good mood. He's three months old, and inexplicably cheerful, no matter the circumstance. He's a fairytale baby. He just loved having his butt changed in the pouring rain outside Little Red Riding Hood's grandmother's house while getting dripped on by a leaky umbrella while we all bitched at each other. Fabulous!
2-year-old needs me. Back later. Maybe. I hope.
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Holland? America? Bitching about where I am, pining for where I'm not...with kids.
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