Have You Ever Been to IHOP?

After waking up 3 children at 4:00 am; finishing packing; checking out of the hotel; getting briefly lost on the way to the airport (twice); getting through security (and repacking the 15 bins it takes to x-ray all of our "gear"); fighting small men to pee BEFORE getting on the plane; flying for 3 hours with a 15 month-old who does not want to sit but rather walk up-and-down the main aisle and the President (age 6) and Vee-Pee (age 3, pun intended) of the Small Bladder Club; retrieving luggage and carting it a mile to the minivan in long-term parking; driving the "wrong way" on an outerbelt such that you add an extra 15 miles to your trip; baby pooping in his car seat such that it creates a mold of his bottom crafted out of poop spackle; small children chanting in unison "I'm thirsty. I'm hungry."; wife with plummeting blood sugar and increasing inability to tolerate above-mentioned chanting; everyone screaming as you pull-off the interstate; 6 year-old begging for McDonald's kids meal, and then protesting when no golden arches are in sight; mom racing into IHOP with a 3 year-old who has to (vee-)pee emergently; dad wrestling a 6 year-old (while holding a (foul-smelling) poop spackled diaper-wearing baby) who REFUSES to go into IHOP (despite promises of whipped cream-covered waffles), such that you hope he didn't dislocate his shoulder when he falls limp in the middle of the parking lot while still holding your hand; alternating ordering while changing poop spackled diapers and taking Small Bladder Club leadership to pee (again) after they inhale 12 ounces of chocolate milk in 0.7 seconds; food arrives only to have baby start flinging pancakes, milk cup, and crayons everywhere, while his older brothers practice somersaults in the booth; mom wolfing down her meal faster than Chris Farley's Conehead girlfriend (which causes you to pause momentarily in admiration); mom taking baby to walk in the entry-way, while Dad-E tries to eat about $12 in extra pancakes/waffles that older brothers have left on their plates; dad tagging out with mom to take his turn walking with baby, white t-shirt covered in a mess of red granola bar filling, syrup, and snot, while baby dances to U2; finally paying the bill, and heading back to the minivan and looking forward to another 2 hours in the car.

Well, I suggest doing so at your own risk.

(As you can see, we've been on vacation, which means lots of new blog material.)

Have a good week,
Busy-Dad-E