Our first official family beach vacation happened. It was the first time we went on vacation with a kid, and we took the dog too. It was great, but I’m also pretty sure someone has a voodoo doll of me and was sticking pins in it all week.
Things that happened:
– $150 speeding ticket on the way there in one of the infamous, pure pure evil speed traps
– Dog freaked out in condo; barked “without pause” for two days
– “Without pause” in quotations because that’s what the first angry note, scrawled in blood on a paper towel and posted on our door, described it as.
– Okay, it wasn’t really written in blood, but it may as well have been with how seething it was.
– Soooo, we bought the dog a toy, played with her extra, walked her extra, and she seemed totally fine. We posted our phone number on the door for people to call us if the dog was bothering them. We received no calls on our 2nd beach day. Problem solved, right?
– Wrong. Instead, we received an even angrier note, with multiple exclamation points, carefully shaded in. Who does that? Who shades in exclamation points on anonymous passive aggressive notes?
– I talked to all the neighbors personally, offering to buy them a 6-pack and to call me if the dog bothered them. All denied writing the note. WTF. But after that, Note-Gate mysteriously ended.
– Wife came down with head cold.
– Baby came down with head cold.
– I came down with head cold.
– And for the grand finale, I fucked my car trying to turn out of a narrow alley parking spot, getting stuck and denting it/scratching it straight to hell.
But you know what? We still had a great time. And I’m so sociopathically committed to ENJOYING VACATION NO MATTER WHAT that my one sole regret is that I didn’t buy my son a beanie babies shirt.
I know what you’re thinking. I officially got sun stroke and lost my damn mind on this vacation. It’s possible. Very very possible.
This is not the shirt I didn’t buy. This is just an example of what the shirt was. If it had been this shirt, I probably would not have been able to resist.
I love digging in the racks of the numerous t-shirt stores. The clearance racks in the back are always goldmines of stray long-ago printed 90s shirts. While I didn’t find any “MUST BUY” gems, I almost bought my kid a 90s Beanies shirt that said “This is my Beanies Shirt.” It was so perfect and so terrible.
The only thing was, if I bought this for him, was it because I loved him? Or if I didn’t buy it, was it because I loved him?
Ultimately I decided I loved him too much to dress him in twenty-year-old shirts saturated in roughly seven levels of postmodern irony that would be totally lost on him. One day he’d just take a picture of him in that shirt and hand it to the therapist wordlessly.
But damn it, it was only $2.99. I should have bought it.