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Midway through a weeklong vacation, I tend to wake up in the middle of the night, troubled by my thoughts. Having nothing but the entertainment of my family to focus on, the night’s quiet hours tend to find the darker thoughts to focus on. Waking from a bad dream at 4:00 am, I tear up over the vivid reality that was fading away as lucidity returns.
Eventually I settle back down and we inexplicably sleep in until almost 8:00 am. The trade off for that means a long line for breakfast amidst the hungover adults from last night’s party.
Tables are scarce, and the hostess attempts to seat the three of us at a two-top, a logistical impossibility with a messy three-year-old. We negotiate another table near a drafty door, the tropical winds pushing hard through the jamb, in spite of its design. But what we trade off in temperature, we make up in view. The pool outside has three sawtooth sharks enjoying their morning swim. My son is mesmerized with this treat, as am I.

It was our hope to head to the pool after breakfast but our hopes are dashed as a storm begins to blow through. Some early pool hoppers come running back to the main building, pool towels over their heads.
We take our time eating, hoping it clears. The rain stops, but the clouds and high winds persist. We decide to venture poolside anyway, hoping the warm temperatures make it worthwhile.
Another cruise ship docks for the day, and 1100 people deluge into the resort. It’s easy to tell who’s a guest and who’s a day tripper, wristbands aside, the groups traveling en masse seeking large swaths of unoccupied chairs.
So far, they aren’t a bother with the exception of a couple who arrived already in an argument. Their thick New York/New Jersey accents nearly indistinguishable, except for a few phrases I could make out. I surmised the fellow was receiving texts messages from a cousin, which the gal seemed to be challenging the authenticity of. She then went on to state she was going to “start shit” as was “her right” and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Why this childless couple decided to have this argument at the children’s pool, I’ll never understand. 
Soon they left for greener, less child-heavy pastures and their chairs were taken over by another family with calmer older children. What is true of real estate is similarly true of pool chairs: location, location, location. Our morning is much more relaxed and although dark clouds occasionally blow through, none drop any rain. The breeze is tropical and pleasant. 

We manage to stall until mid afternoon when my son who has been asking to go back to the room (where his iPad is), finally relents on the condition that if the go back, he must take a nap. Perhaps he really is tired, but it’s far more likely he wants to watch Cars again for the millionth time, oblivious to the fact we are on a tropical resort and he can watch that movie anytime. 

I will remind him of this when he’s older and claiming to be “bored.” Unsure if this is a bluff on his part or if he’s truly tired, I remain behind to hold our seats a few more minutes in case they want to return. 

After half an hour the sky begins to darken so I decide to head back. The boys are just about down for their nap so I join them. 

We wake up and head down for an early dinner. My son eats practically nothing so we leave the meal defeated and finally relent on riding the shuttle like he’s been bugging us all day to do.

We make two loops before my husband needs to use the restroom and we have to cut our ride short. The late nap gives my son a second wind around 9:30 so he fights going down. 

Even when he does rest, he thrashes all night, vacillating between clinginess and not wanting to be held. I offer him the bed by himself, but he doesn’t want me to leave him. I get practically no sleep and awaken in a foul state. Just two more days until we leave and I’m starting to look forward to it.