January 3
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In which we doubt global warming and other world ending threats.
Surely the last thing one should do in the worst economy since the Great Depression is take a trip to London for Thanksgiving. Well, call us New Economists-- we felt it was our duty to the world to spend internationally this year.
You can thank us later.
In reality, the deals were just too fantastic. It says something about the state of things when it is cheaper to fly to London and stay in a hotel than it is to fly home to Kansas City or stay in our place in Paris. Weird. But, never ones to look a gift horse in the mouth, we packed our bags.
I had high hopes for pictures from the top of the London Eye or photos of Owen with any one of the celebrities featured in Madame Tussaud's. Sadly, the snap of Owen with the Eye sitting WAY off in the distance was the best we could do. He was having nothing of the enormous Ferris wheel and, after the Incredible Hulk roared at him, we raced out of the wax museum at break neck speeds.
(I won't mention the hysterical sobbing at the display on the Great Plague. Owen didn't care so much for the "bring out yer dead!" guy...)
Still, we had plenty of good fun. Owen was able to experiment with several instruments of war at the Tower of London. He learned which weapon was best for crushing bones and which was preferred for piercing major organs. (You gotta love the directness of the Brits.) We ate at several pubs (London ain't Paris gastronomically). We toured the aquarium-- Owen's crazy for aquariums. And we hung out at the British Museum.
Oddly enough, I figured I'd be torturing him with the B.M. Instead, Owen couldn't get enough. It was the first time he insisted we take his picture. Of course, he wanted it with the skeleton so he could "freak Mom out TOTALLY!"
The highlight of the trip for Owen was probably our hotel. We stayed in an apartment like arrangement with a separate bedroom and a living room with pull-out couch. On our second night, Owen very calmly called to us from the couch, "Uh, guys. I think there are bugs on me." We turned on the light and, sure enough, there were!
So, at midnight, we relocated to another, larger suite. When we arrived in London, we let Owen drink apple juice from a wine glass. That was cool, but it paled in comparison to running around the hotel at midnight and telling the other guests that we had bugs in our room.
The management LOVED us.
Upon our return from the Isle, Christmas snuck up on us awfully fast. In fact, it snuck up on us much too quickly to allow for Christmas cards (even with the whole automated thing we've been doing of late!) It's shameful, but it's true. We have big plans for a New Year's missive. In the meantime, we give you this journal update.
Sorry!
Owen made it out to see Santa and requested all things Star Wars. We finally acquiesced and allowed him to watch the original movie. It was nothing short of a religious experience for him and he has since requested every artifact known to man. He received a Tie Fighter from Santa and the Millenium Falcon from Mom and Dad. His grandparents filled the gaps between as best they could.
Owen's good buddy, Holly, and Aunt Lisa squeezed in a quick visit. The two picked up right where they left off with only a mild ruffling of feathers when Owen scoffed at the lack of weaponry in Holly's Christmas stash.
It was, of course, nothing short of a Christmas miracle that we were able to be with friends and grandparents and exchange gifts at all. The day after we arrived, Kansas City experienced its worst blizzard in nearly 40 years. (Boston, meanwhile, enjoyed temperatures in the upper 40s.) It snowed almost constantly until we left.
The day after we arrived in Boston, it began two days of snow and we now have two feet of the awful white mess sitting out on the lawn. Between KC and here, I've shoveled my grave's worth of snow two times over.
On the upside, we did have enough snow to make a truly killer snow fort in our front yard. And, when I say "we," I mean "Mom and Dad." As I mentioned, Owen is now a Priest in the Church of the Jedi. One of his gifts was Lego Star Wars for the Wii and we have not been able to pry him away from it. (Frustrating as that may be, I do have to say he's impressively mastered the silly game...)
When we went outside to shovel, we had to insist that he come along, too, to see some daylight and breathe some fresh air. According to Owen, that was roughly the equivalent of asking him to poke out his own eye, but he did come. He tossed a few shovel loads, then he went up on the porch and demanded that Mom and Dad throw snow balls at each other. When we turned the fire power on him, he begged to go back to his game.
I have to say, though, that his obsession has given us tremendous bargaining power. It is amazing the number of vegetables the boy will eat under threat of losing Wii privileges. He's even asked for jobs around the house to earn money to buy more games (which I leveraged into getting him outside again today to shovel more @#$% snow!)
Terrible economy. Impending natural disaster. Kids shirking their duties so they can play with their Star Wars toys. Parents manipulating their children into indentured servitude.
The end of times? Nah. Pretty much sounds like my childhood.
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