View From an Island, Part 3

Day 5: Eight is Enough
Today was the day when we realized that 8 days of vacation might be too much for a pre-schooler and an infant. Cries of, "I want to go home!" filled the air as we pulled back on some of our planned adventures for fear that we over-scheduled our kids.

However, the bittersweet knowledge that we wouldn't be able to do everything we wanted was easier to take by the gorgeous sunset.


Day 6: The Way the Whistle Blew
Because the ticket booth for the Sugar Cane Train was in the back of the gift shop, I had no choice but to buy the Bean a toy train. As the cashier was ringing it up, she said, “It plays music if you press this button.” Damn, I thought. She must not be a parent. She pushed down on the smokestack, but nothing happened. She offered to get me another one, but I quickly said the broken one would be great. She even took a few bucks off the price.

The next day, the Bean pushed the button and the train lit up and began playing highly annoying, tinny music and train sounds. It had miraculously been resurrected, much to the collective chagrin of WW™ and me. The Bean pushed that button over and over and over... Later, when he was out with WonderWife™, I took out the batteries and told him that it was broken again. The people on the plane ride home would've thanked me.


Day 7: “Yes, married.”
Oh yeah, we were there for a wedding. We had all but forgotten as the day approached.

It was held at a stunning oceanside plantation. I snuck off with my bride and we danced next to the waves as the sun was going down. This was by far the best moment of the entire vacation.


Day 8: As Luck Would Have It
Between check out and our flight, we had time to kill. A visit to the sugar museum did away with 20 of those minutes and resulted in the Bean getting a tablespoon worth of sugar in a small ziplock bag. He refused to put it away and carried it around, making it look like he was toting a drug stash. Later on the plane when he said, “I want sugar! I want sugar!” and I poured a little in his hand and he lapped it up, the drug metaphor still seemed apt.

The vacation gods were benevolent on this day as the plane was miraculously only a third full. I cannot remember a recently flight that has not been overstuffed to the gills. We spread our tired selves over six seats and had an uneventful, stress-free flight.

Every time we left the door of our condo in Maui, the Bean would ask, “On ramp?” (The kid loves going up on ramps. Don’t ask me why.) We would tell him that there were no on ramps on the island. In fact, there were no freeways on the island.

When we got in the car and headed for home the Bean told me, “I’m so happy there’s an on ramp.”

Welcome home, family. Welcome home.