Lately, I've been seriously craving a vacation somewhere warm. This isn't that shocking, I guess, given that it's about 10 degrees outside, there's snow on the ground, and we've still got two and a half months of winter to go. A few days ago, on a lark -- or perhaps just to torture myself -- I priced out how much it would cost, with airfare, for our whole family to go for a few days to one of those "Beaches" resorts in the Caribbean -- the kind where childcare is offered during the day. Um. Yeah. That's not happening any time soon. I can't quite believe that ANY family has a spare seven to ten grand to plunk down for a few days in the sun. But such families apparently exist. If you are one of them, I hate you. Just kidding.
Of course, when I really thought about what going on such a trip would entail -- namely, dealing with two 2-year-olds (un potty-trained, mind you) in airports, on planes, in wet and sandy bathing suits, requiring paid babysitters at night, etc. I realized that what I would really like is to be teleported instantly to a tropical resort -- all four of us and all our crap, plus a fabulous nanny who'll work for room and board only -- and I want someone else to pay for it. Perhaps the federal government? In short, I don't want to do any of the work of actually planning and orchestrating a trip. I just want to be somewhere else for a little while, and have it be perfectly easy. A vacation from reality, you might say.
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