Another Thanksgiving has come and gone. Nothing especially noteworthy happened at this year’s festivities (at least, nothing I’m going to blog about publicly) so I’ll have to think of something else to fill up the bulk of today’s posting.
The trip itself, which has all the earmarks of disaster (extremely long, boring countryside, nighttime traveling) went off extremely well. As previously mentioned, the portable DVD player and our stockpile of kid movies saved the day; both girls slept on and off and mostly watched the movie or quietly watched the road go by. Only on the way hope did Lily start to whine and, honestly, The Scientist and I were right there with her. But we all survived and since we came home on Saturday instead of Sunday, the girls are just about back on their regular schedule.
Speaking of the trip… here’s a note to whoever designs the restrooms in truck stops and restaurants: some fathers take their pre-k daughters into the restroom to change them. And while I really appreciate having a Koala changing station so I don’t have to put my child on the floor, could you maybe place them a little more strategically in the restroom? I changed Lily in a truck stop and the changing station was literally right by the door. So everyone coming in or leaving (and anyone passing by in the hall) got a great look at my little girl’s business, if you know what I mean. Now, I’m a father so if I saw that it wouldn’t bother me, but I’m sure there’s lots of people who don’t want to see miniature vagina on their way to the can. Not to mention the teens and pedophiles, y’know?
And in the McDonalds on the turnpike the changing station was positioned that when the table was lowered, I was completely blocking the only stall. Not as in you’d have to squeeze past me, if you had to use the crapper you’d have to either wait or ask me to raise the drawbridge so you could get past. Not the best layout.
There’s probably a bigger story here, about how these establishments make a gesture for men, but really focus on the women’s room, where women change the children as God intended or some-such… but that would set me off on a rant, and I’m a little too tired to build up a good head of steam.
Next on the hit list: Christmas. We’re staying at home, and we’re having exactly one person to visit, my mom. Low key, low fuss.
And no freaks watching while I change my daughters' diapers.