Aloha

A couple of hours ago, baby cried loudly on the way home from dinner in the next town, and I was sure it meant we wouldn’t go to Hawaii at Christmas. We’ve been on the fence for weeks, in a big way, about whether to join my family for a trip to the Big Island. The pros included baby’s initiating relationships with my side of the family sooner rather than later, the wife’s and my getting to see my family in an exotic locale, and all of our getting a reprieve from Rhode Island in winter (we had our second snowfall this morning). The cons included the prospect of baby’s ears hurting during descents (it’s a multi-leg trip), her wailing inexplicably for multiple hours while sitting on our laps on the plane, and one or both of baby’s parents having a nervous breakdown from all the stress.

So, as we drove on the dark road to the sound of energetic, intelligent, passionate crying it suddenly seemed obvious that we wouldn’t go to Hawaii. The only thing was that a minute and a half after we got home, baby quieted down, smiled broadly and was about the happiest we’ve seen her for the rest of the evening.

And somehow or other we decided that we’re going to go see my family after all. May the Force be with us.