Slapstick Comedy and Sleepless Nights

So, you know, just your average day.

Awake at four and out the door a solid 45 minutes later than hoped. But we didn't forget anything! (That we've realized yet, anyway.)

Both boys were much, much better on the plane than I dared hope. Things have gone downhill since then, but my airline-induced ulcer was for naught.

The flight crew from Phoenix to Nashville fancied themselves a comedy troupe, resulting in hearty applause on numerous occasions. Jokes, songs, physical gags - they had it all. My personal favorite: "Be careful when retrieving items from the overhead compartments - shift happens."

I also enjoyed when the attendant tripped and spilled an entire tray of coffee cups on Martin. The whole end of the plane let out a collective gasp as white Styrofoam flew slow-motion style from her tray to his lap. Minutes before the dramatic fall another attendant had come through and passed out actual coffees (what, no hot cocoa?). I've never seen that before and am almost convinced they do it just to make the fake coffee tray more believable. That, my friends, is dedication to their craft. Or possibly just boredom.

The comedy continued upon arriving, as Marty greeted us wearing these.

We had dinner and arrived at the hotel. We got our key cards, hitched up our pack mules and headed to room 423. Cael hit the alarm in the elevator to add a little spice to an otherwise mundane activity. We got to the room, slid the key into the door and opened it.

Huh. A newspaper. Thoughtful. A cooler? They use those in lieu of mini fridges in Tennessee? Jeff Foxworthy would have a redneck joke about this. Cael, don't touch the phone. No, Cael, don't touch the briefcase. Briefcase? Wait - the bathroom light is on! ABORT! ABORT!

Front desk lady was not as horrified as were that six adults, a baby and a two year old just wandered into an occupied hotel room. She kept asking if we were sure there was someone in there since her computer said the room was empty. Two things, lady. One: if it had been me on the room when the Clampetts came traipsing in, I'd have dived into the bathtub too. Two: computers are not infallible (especially when it's humans doing the inputting). If you're not careful you'll turn into one of those people who believes that if it's on the internet it must be true. Those people frighten me.

So, after way too much hassle, we finally got a room (not a suite as we'd reserved) and got the boys in bed. Surprise, surprise, Cael didn't want to sleep. He wanted to play with Mom and Dad and bounce on the bed and turn on the tv and...

It was after eleven before all was quiet.

And at two the noise resumed in the form of a loud thump, followed by screaming.

His third time in as many months to fall out of bed. (Cael, not Ryan. Ryan's gotten much better.) This was the biggest yet. The first was off a trundle and would have barely registered if he hadn't landed on his head and stuck there. The second was over his side-rail, so, farther to fall, but he was awake at the time so it wasn't as scary (and it may have been more of a jump than a fall. Without video footage we can't make a ruling).

Finn, of course, woke when the rest of us did and added his part to "The Screaming Duet," the hit single from our next album, Boys Do Cry. Other tracks include: "When Irish Eyes are Weeping," "Splendor in the Gas," and "Hit The Baby One More Time." In record stores this October!

We ended up having Cael sleep in the bed between us for what was left of the night after he calmed down and we were sure there was no permanent damage. Turns out you can really extend the usable width of a bed by pushing an armchair up to the side and wedging a pillow in the crack. Cool, huh?

Yeah, no. I didn't think so either.

And, yes, my favorite part is Marty's shoes too.