We're here in beautiful Jamaica, and we may not leave. Ok, we probably will have to leave. But I won't want to.
We had a pretty uneventful trip here. Wiggle Man slept on me most of the plane ride. Which made that the hottest plane ride ever. Seriously, the kid's a heat pump. The only drama we had was the shuttle ride to our resort. (Which was still cool. We drove through the town where they filmed Cool Runnings.) However, it turns out that Wiggle Man inherited more than my love for carbs--he also gets carsick, just like Mommy.
Unlike Mommy, though, he actually threw up.
There we were, driving crazily across the island, music pumping, and Hubba Hubba shouting for the poor driver to pull over. Did you know diapers make excellent barf bags? True fact.
Once we arrived, though, he was all smiles and giggles. He'd live in the pool, if we'd let him. He was less excited by the beach, but I have hope. He is my son, after all. And he loves it here. He won't want to leave, either. Unless, of course, he can take these guys with him:
Cookie Monster just walked by. I blew him a kiss--he returned the favour. Don't tell Hubba Hubba.
I'm off to find me a pina colada.