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And the countdown begins...
Jun. 25th, 2007 10:13 amWell, one of them, anyway. And no, I don't mean anything HP-related.
This Thursday my oldest boy will hop on a plane at LAX and, after a brief layover in Houston, will hopefully land at Schipohl on Friday afternoon. I say hopefully because last year he had a layover at Heathrow, got confused, and missed his connecting flight. You can imagine, I think, what six kinds of hell I went through when I realized that all the passengers had disembarked and he wasn't one of them.
He did make the next flight, but his suitcase didn't. I will give BA it's due - it arrived on our doorstep the following afternoon with a smile. Now that's service, considering it wasn't an error on their part.
Griffin is 16 this time around. Last year he'd grown taller than I am, and this year he says that he's taller than his father. Not any great shakes; my ex is only 5'6"! But he's at least 5'8" which means I'm *really* going to be looking up at him when I yell at him to clean his room.
He can drink legally here, which should prove interesting. I'm thinking of turning him loose in the Red Light District in Amsterdam with a return train ticket and 100 Euros as a belated Christmas present. That ought to keep him, uh, occupied. >;c)
I've made up the bed in the spare room, aired out the room itself and vacuumed up the spiderwebs. I re-wallpapered with some groovy new 60's-style stuff with green swirleys on it, and bought him his favorite Dutch snacks. Yes, I'm over-compensating. I know. Shut up. I see him 8 weeks out of the year. In two years he won't *have* to come at all, and who knows how often I'll see him after that?
I won't think about that right now though. Right now I'm just going to be excited to see my baby again. :c)
P.S. Don't tell him I called him my "baby," okay? He really hates that. Rolls his eyes and everything...
This Thursday my oldest boy will hop on a plane at LAX and, after a brief layover in Houston, will hopefully land at Schipohl on Friday afternoon. I say hopefully because last year he had a layover at Heathrow, got confused, and missed his connecting flight. You can imagine, I think, what six kinds of hell I went through when I realized that all the passengers had disembarked and he wasn't one of them.
He did make the next flight, but his suitcase didn't. I will give BA it's due - it arrived on our doorstep the following afternoon with a smile. Now that's service, considering it wasn't an error on their part.
Griffin is 16 this time around. Last year he'd grown taller than I am, and this year he says that he's taller than his father. Not any great shakes; my ex is only 5'6"! But he's at least 5'8" which means I'm *really* going to be looking up at him when I yell at him to clean his room.
He can drink legally here, which should prove interesting. I'm thinking of turning him loose in the Red Light District in Amsterdam with a return train ticket and 100 Euros as a belated Christmas present. That ought to keep him, uh, occupied. >;c)
I've made up the bed in the spare room, aired out the room itself and vacuumed up the spiderwebs. I re-wallpapered with some groovy new 60's-style stuff with green swirleys on it, and bought him his favorite Dutch snacks. Yes, I'm over-compensating. I know. Shut up. I see him 8 weeks out of the year. In two years he won't *have* to come at all, and who knows how often I'll see him after that?
I won't think about that right now though. Right now I'm just going to be excited to see my baby again. :c)
P.S. Don't tell him I called him my "baby," okay? He really hates that. Rolls his eyes and everything...
