I want to do an entry about the grand plans our family has in store for 2013, but that will have to wait. We are in survival mode here. After 10 days on the road, through Paris, Amsterdam, and the rails in between, it is time to go home. We’ve had our fill of French wines, Belgian beer, and baked goods. We’ve walked zillions of blocks. We’ve seen the sights and learned to navigate our way through foreign cities. Heck, at this point, even Noah and Sophie have learned to drive a bike through the busy streets of Amsterdam.
But, Stella says it is time to go home. She only wants to eat Nutella on bread, noodles, and french fries. She isn’t napping regularly, and when she does nap she’s up until 11 pm. She melts down at the slightest perceived infraction and I find myself doing ridiculous things to keep her happy. Yes, Stella is telling us it is time to go home.
We need our beds. Our bed times. Our toys. Our kitchen. Food groups that aren’t white. We need our home.
Two year olds are great barometers for when vacation is over and it is time to return to our real lives. Stella says it is time.
When her face no longer looks like this, that means it is time to pack it in. Literally.