Saturday at the Prata

The kids woke up yesterday begging for roller coasters, so Timi (who'd been ill with fever + stomach miseries for four days) swallowed some motrin, and we rallied for a day at the Prata. The kids were so excited they yelled like a couple rhesus monkeys the entire tram ride there. Peter was enthusiastic and completely fearless and wanted to ride everything ten times. He was ever so sweet to his terrified Mama and grabbed my hand in a reassuring kind of way when the bats came out in the zombie house. Parker was less amused by the whole scene. Mostly, he clung to my pant leg and wet his own. The only ride that tempted him was the blue alpha romeo that went round a track past two gas pumps at a snail's pace. Upon mastering that one, he got a wee bit daring and dragged me off to one he'd watched Peter go on but hadn't dared to try himself: a firetruck that went almost as slow as the alpha romeo, but with a few more dips in the track. I set him in the seat smiling, but when it came down the ever so slight incline he let out a blood curdling scream that even made the tattooed man and his girlfriend purse their lips (as best one can with a triple piercings in the gum anyway.) I whisked him out of the truck and away from the scene just as the pierced girlfriend was about to tossle his curls. Phew. "Not scary Mama. I no wan scary." I couldn't have agreed
more.

We spotted Peter and Timi on another free round in the bomber planes and despite the cold conditions and his stomach flu, Timi was enthralled by the battle and didn't look in the least bit likely to come down until their winning streak was broken. Parker and I wandered back to the classic cars. I stood their handing the ticket lady her 3 euros so Parker could ride the alpha five more times. It was so ridiculously pricey that I could barely contain my smile when I saw the puddle Parker left in the seat. We were out of pants, so Parker's legs and bum went to lunch clad in the sleeves of his windbreaker.

Timi really put out a good faith effort (all in an effort to get me in the sack I'm sure), but the pig foot at the Schweizerhaus house easily set back his digestion by a week. He groaned the whole way home, and I'm sure the waiters had to have been wondering what was going on
with their least favorite customers when Timi passed Cafe Weimer on the way back to our apartment at a dead run. His only forays out of the WC since have been for more camomile tea and sympathy. Of course I was busy tending to the husband post-Prata that I completely forgot about Parker who was asleep in my bed, until--oops--6pm! You can imagine how bedtime went.

So now it's Sunday, and I can't wait for Monday (I have such fond memories of the years when I prayed for weekends!). But I did manage to duck out for a little relaxing email/photo organizing session at Cafe Weimer, leaving the ill + the unnerving at home building a
gondola out of duplo train tracks.

Leaving Mallorca

It's the final few hours of our weeklong trip to Mallorca with Adam, Sabina and Celestine, visiting Donna, Ella and Simon. We are packing up for our 9pm flight (which we pray won't be disrupted by the volcano in Iceland.)

Parker is very excited to go to the airport and has been busy gathering what he needs. He's placed all his sand toys in his clear backpack, put on his crocs and gathered his horse balloon that he named Blaze. He comes over to me holding the spoon Blaze is tethered to, wearing his backpack, his crocs and nothing else. He tugs me on my leg and says:

"Mama I be ready go to the airport now."

I look him up and down. "Hmmm. Parker don't you think you might be forgetting something."

"Oh yeah!" he lights up. "I need my bunny!"

Right. That's just what I was thinking.