Crabs

We're used to spending most of our days apart from each other, but now that every day is a weekend, we're stuck together almost constantly. We've also been stressed with the normal stresses of travel (all the hurry-up-and-wait, learning how to navigate a new area). It's becoming a Family Tolerance Boot Camp.

I get crabby because I want to be exploring and out and about and I get impatient waiting for Margo and Sarah. It also makes me crazy when Sarah, who happens to be a little kid, actually acts like a little kid. I'm also trying to convince the whole UK that we are not ugly Americans, so every time Sarah tries climbing a street pole I'm in instant fear of being deported.

Margo gets crabby because she's on vacation and her impatient husband keeps pressing her to finish eating. And when we're navigating, she wants to let me know that she knows everything, just as much as I want her to know I know everything.

Sarah gets crabby because her parents keep telling her what to do and she has to come along all the time. She has to walk when she'd rather have someone else drive her around. And she doesn't have any kids to play with, and oddly enough, Margo and I don't jump at the chance to read her a comic book or listen intently as she interrupts us with a new non sequitur. (She's had quite a few about the Superfriends lately. We'll be walking down the street when she'll reveal a startling new fact about the Green Lantern.)

I'm sure we'll adapt soon enough (we're already learning techniques to help, like scheduling time on the laptop). But if one of us calls collect from the constable's, you'll know why.