Because a glove told me to, I boarded a plane and flew for 8 hours across the country. With a four month old. By myself. Where I learned nothing says, "Welcome to your vacation!" like hearing the captain announce your final decent while balancing a brand new puddle of sloshing baby poop in your lap.
Because a glove told me to, I sprinted through the airport terminal sprinkling liquid feces left and right and piled into a mini van filled with my college besties*!
Because a glove told me to, we partied! Just like in college! But with more pumpkins and less country dancing.**
Yes. We've always been this cool.
Because a glove told me to, I stayed up much later than my 9:30 mommy bedtime, discussing, um, world news and stuff.... Seriously! See:
Jenn: Oh my goodness! The Chilean miners are being rescued!
Aingel: They hadn't been rescued yet?
Jenn: Can you imagine seeing light for the first time in two months?
Scooby: I know, it's a tragedy, but a happy one.
Actual conversation fueled by M&M's transcribed for your entertainment from our actual hotel room. Nothing else was discussed outside of world news. Except literature. And classical music. And you know, other smart people stuff. Oops... and pumpkins. I let that one slip-sorry guys! (I'm trying my hardest to have your back besties!! Um....You guys are still going to watch mine even though I apparently can't stop using the word "besties", right? please?)
Because a glove told me to, I moonwalked my way down the aisle of the flight home and answered every Flight Attendant's question with a crotch grab 'n pop. Wait. That may not have been the right glove....
*I can NOT get this word out of my head!
**Believe me. It's just as embarrassing for me to type "country dancing" as it is for you to read. At least you don't have the mental picture of me dancing like a stiff jointed Barbie doll to Shaina Twain's "Man! I Feel Like A Woman!" stuck in your head.
Then again, maybe you do.