Well, there's a twelfth one that's two years old, and he erupted today. He was due.
If you have one and are vacationing here, don't do what we did.
We rented a car to check out more of the island and to attend Stacie and Kris' post wedding barbecue. We drove to this place called Pini Lookout, where we were able to look out over the south side of the island. Mark Twain called that exact spot the most beautiful view on earth. He may have been right. But I also know he never sat poolside at the Viceroy.
Wyatt loved it and didn't want to leave. We promised to show him more of Hawaii. That seemed to appease him.
Tick. Tock.
We then headed to a beach in Lanikai, which is the part of Hawaii that Hot Mama wanted to show me - unfiltered, not touristy, just pure. It might be the most beautiful beach on earth. Mark Twain, it's your move. I challenge you to find one better.
We swam, snorkeled and played in the sand and butted heads with Wyatt's nap time, which he refused. He wanted more Hawaii.
Tick tock.
We then drove to Stacie's aunt's place in Kailua, then followed a caravan to Waikane at her cousin's place for the BBQ. And throughout, Wyatt stayed awake, overstimulated by everything he saw.
Tick tock tick tock.
Their place is amazing, a quaint open house with property that leads put to a private dock and peninsula. Wyatt was so inspired by this that he turned into an insatiable tornado. He wanted to paddle board. No, canoe. No, swim. No, take a boat. No, paddle board again. No, boogie board. Every minute, a new whim. But it wasn't his time or place yet, and he had to calm down.
Ticktockticktockticktock.
He had a tantrum. Then another. Then another. He actually demanded that we give him a time out. He refused to listen. It was now three hours past nap time, and...
KABOOM!
Ladies and gentlemen, friends, family and readers of this blog, I have faced my share of physical turmoil in my life, from torn ACLs to running a marathon with tendinitis.
I don't think either could compare to putting an overtired two-year-old into his car seat.
If we had a virgin handy, we would have sacrificed them to make our lives easier.
Twenty minutes later, after steady streams of sweat flowed down our backs, Hot Mama and I finally strapped him in and drove home, having not eaten any BBQ, stopping only to pick up some fresh Huli Huli chicken from a shop on the road. He passed out for about twenty minutes then reawoke, not happy but somewhat eased.
When we got here, we chose to pick a room without a view because if he were stuck inside, it would be a loss.
We spent the rest of the night inside with a calm volcano that was as sweet as any cupcake could be. We ordered takeout and watched TV, laughed, wrestled and played.
Do we now consider staying inside to be a loss? No.
It's merely survival. Cute, charming, cuddling survival.
Nothing in life is perfect. You just have to roll with it and make due with what you've got, even if that's Spongebob and chicken fingers in a Hilton.
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Read Day Six
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