We had our first family hotel stay. (Did you know if your family is larger than 5-you have to have another room?) It was a local hotel. My aunt and uncle and cousins and kids were visiting from Illinois and they were staying one night at the hotel so we joined them. Our "large" family had to book a suite--where the mysterious middle door opens. Our suite had a little kitchenette and living room with a fold out couch attached to the regular 2 bedroom hotel room. Very unique to me.
A great time was had by all. With seven kids under the age of 9, the pool was a huge attraction. It had a kiddie pool right in it for the little ones and a seperate hot tub for the big ones. :-) Ahh!! (Ryan even got to show off his painted big toe nail that he let Sarah paint bright pink because no one would ever see it.) We swam and ordered pizza and swam some more (yes, we waited 20 minutes-my cousin has lifeguard training). Then we slept all night and swam again in the morning. We said our goodbyes and the kids and I cleaned up, packed up, and headed to the van (Ry was already at work).
As I shut the back door on our luggage, I noticed some scratches accross the back. I followed them. They were all the way around the van, at least twice! Someone had viciously "keyed" our van. I calmly let the hotel know, and my husband, and we called the police to file a report. It was now lunch time, so I pulled out the emergency box of graham crackers for the kids while we waited for the officer. "Do you have any enemies, Ma'am? Perhaps an angry ex?" Perhaps the vandals had you confused with someone else.
We left for home but had to stop to get gas first. When I opened the gas door, a small pile of dead leaves fell out. Something a child would do - no doubt. SOmething clicks in my brain. I ger a flash of everything my boys have destroyed--wallpaper, furniture, toys, walls, closet shelving, towel bars--I bend closer to look at the scratches near the gas door. Yes...there and there again...that looks like the letter "m". Only one boy makes "m"s like that.
I calmly bring Marc to that side of the van. I smile. I control my voixe. "Is that your "m"?" I ask.
He smiles, swelling with pride. After all, mama loves his "m"s. "Yes," he says expectantly turning his eyes toward me.
"And what did you use to make your m?"
"Oh, a sharp shiny rock."
"Did you go all around the van?"
"Yes, " he's still smiling a little but he's wavering. Perhaps my fake pleasant tone is fading, "I wanted to make it beautiful for you, Mama."
I hugged him. I was glad his heart was in the fight place, but we need to work on modes of expression here. So now you know, the rest of the story.
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