The Best Vacation Ever (aka Daddy's Business Trip)

We recently traveled out to scenic Shaumburg (slogan: We're like the Miracle Mile of Chicago, but located in the middle of nowhere!) where the Gremlin decided he was on "the best vacation ever."

It all started with trains (of course): the Gremlin taking the L to get on the Metra, which then had to sit and wait for the Amtrak to pass through a tunnel, which he was able to view out the window. After that he met with the Father of the Gremlin (hi) who then took everyone to a hotel room with... get this... round pillows. Apparently the simple novelty of compacting and rounding a pillow was such an inventive breakthrough that it kept the Gremlin fascinated for a cumulative total of 6 hours. He was only in the city of Shaumburg for a grand total of 24 hours, several of which were spent asleep. From there, however, was a harrowing encounter where the Gremlin was 'almost eaten by a scary alligator' at his new favorite restaurant - Rainforest Cafe.

There were many more fun-filled events including swimming, Ikea, cable kids TV (which is shocking like regular kids TV), train toys, and the elevator (which he was so fascinated with that he spent an hour riding and pushing buttons for businessmen while in his swim trunks).

The only disappointment for him came when the Mother of the Gremlin informed him that he wouldn't be able to go to Legoland. After doing extensive research (reading the reviews on Yelp.com) it was determined that it was not worth visiting for a grand total of $60 to spend 20 minutes looking at the sculptures also visible at the Michigan Avenue store for free.

The MOTG usually breaks this news to the Gremlin by informing him that the store in question is 'closed' thereby halting any toddler-related tantrums. Unfortunately, the MOTG had told this to the Gremlin one too many times.

During one of his 15 trips into the elevator past the front desk, the Gremlin stopped and introduced himself. The MOTG, and the front desk, thought this was adorable, and lowered their guard. The Gremlin, sensing weakness, struck.

"'Scuse me, is Legoland open?" The MOTG glanced frantically over - trying to give the international parenting 'look' for "I have to travel with him today, please cover my lie," but the woman was all eyes for the little curly-haired blonde.

"Of course, honey! It opens at noon, and at 10am on the weekends." The Gremlin looked up at the MOTG.

"I knew it."

Delicious Distractions

So the other day the Mother of the Gremlin was heading out to get dinner - she usually does a homemade meal almost every night, and rarely takes a night off. So when she asked to take a night off, both the Gremlin and I were okay with it. We began the ice-cold schlep over to foodie row (McDonald's, Subway, four middle eastern places (two Lebanese, one Iraqi, one Egyptian) a Starbucks, and Dunkin' Donuts, two pizza places, and brand-new hot dog store. All within two blocks of each other.

Once we stopped at the bank, we had to again pass by the Dunkin' Donuts. The Gremlin, having already figured out that 1) donuts are delicious and 2) you have to have money to get one (he's currently saving his regular holiday money from grandma for Thomas & Friends Wooden Railway - Rocky), saw that we had just gone to the bank.

We have been trying to get the Gremlin used to walking with us and not being carried, and he's always been extremely good about walking with us, not crossing streets without us, etc... But when the guy walking in front of us stepped into Dunkin' Donuts, the Gremlin darted in after him. The man was so amused that he held the inner door open as well, and the Gremlin was off to the races.

He ducked in and out of the maze of tables, glanced at the twin 5-person deep lines, and stepped right in front of everyone. The Latino man, short but sturdy and looking like a craftsman or construction worker by trade (read: tough), that the Gremlin had just brushed aside began to chuckle as the employee looked confused between the two.

The Gremlin was undaunted. "I would like one chocolate donut please!" The Dunkin Donuts worker just stood there staring at him, so the Gremlin made an addendum. "Oh, and a coffee for momma. Thanks!"

We finally caught up with him at that point and tried to pull him to the back of the line, but all 5 men the Gremlin cut off were chuckling and telling us it was okay. So the employee rang it up as the Gremlin looked at his mother. "Okay momma, you can pay for it now."

He's gonna be fun in high school. Especially when he learns about credit cards.

And people say he's cute

As all parents do, I have begun thinking my child is a genius. I first began to have this suspicion about the time he was supposed to be sitting up (I was doing several other things, and don't remember exactly at what point that is supposed to be). But I do remember the conversation. I was speaking to a co-worker, and upon being asked how old my son was, they began to talk about how they remembered the first time their child sat up. I agreed and began reminiscing as well. My co-worker was rather surprised, thinking it would take another month for my son to be at that point.

I was getting worried around the 7 month point, as I heard it was bad for a child's development to skip the whole "crawling" phase, and up until then, he was pulling himself into a standing position, but not crawling. And then he rode the train.

Strapped into his stroller, the little gremlin was wheeled onto the train and parked in the space reserved for handicapped people and parents with strollers. There we took a seat and proceeded to enjoy our train ride. I noticed a look for the first time that I didn't understand until several weeks later, but would come to dread. My son was sitting quietly in his stroller staring at the clasps that sat between him and the freedom of the rest of the train car. With the sort of inconvenient timing only a small child can manage, he unclasped himself from the stroller, slid his body down beneath the tray, and made a mad dash down the car.

It was as if in a bad movie where time slowed. Everyone in the car stared as this seven month old child crawled like a wounded frog down the center aisle of the train, alone. I was right. For the past week, the Mother of the Gremlin and I would walk in on him, and he would fall on his face. I thought it was interesting that he would be fine alone for quite a while, but as soon as he saw us, fall. And it was also interesting how he managed to catch himself at other times, but never seemed to be able to when we would walk in on him. The MOTG did not believe it to be anything, but I was suspicious that he was crawling and didn't want us to see.