, ,

My yoga teacher often says, “last one, best one!” meaning that we should make our last rep our best effort. The same is true for travel. Knowing we depart in the morning gives our plans for the day a much needed sense of urgency to make it the best one yet.
We learn from past mistakes at breakfast, giving the food refusing toddler only one food option: cereal. He devours three bowls.
We repeat our strategy from the day before, sending my husband to the pool while my son and I take our ride around on the shuttle. At one of the stops two foursomes are missing one person, so they ask if we can wait a minute for the last person.
Sure enough, he comes scurrying through the lobby and the man waiting let out a whistle to alert him to the shuttle waiting for him. Unfortunately he underestimated the volume and acoustics within the shuttle, as the sound ripped through in a shockingly, almost painful aural assault. He immediately regretted it, apologizing profusely, but the damage was already done.
My son began to reprimand him for not using his inside voice and frightening him. We were happy to see them go at the golf course, and he apologized again.
Later, we joined my husband poolside, finding a much quieter day without the inundation of cruise shippers. We enjoy the calmer waters and my husband takes the plunge on the “leap of faith” water slide. It’s very out of character for a guy who doesn’t like rides or heights. Doubtful he’ll do it again since it scared the bejesus out of him, but what’s life without a little sense of adventure.
We return to the room and get a much needed nap. Checking the weather for our return, we find April weather in the northeast is incredibly variable, and is calling for snow.
We realize we’re woefully unprepared for our return so we head off to the shops in search of something with long sleeves for me and my son. We find a few somewhat reasonably priced sweatshirts (given that everything on the island is subject to a value added tax), and head back to pick up the shuttle home.
We drop off our bags and head down to the buffet for our last dinner of the trip. Our minimalist strategy from breakfast continues to prove successful as my son consumes more during this meal than all other dinners combined. Returning to our room, we pack up what we don’t need for the morning and wind down for our last night.
It’s bittersweet, realizing we finally hit our stride on the last day, but I’m excited to get home. My son still struggles to sleep and I wonder if we’ll ever see him sleep through the night. He wakes up, screaming for his shoes or to be picked up, sometimes about nothing at all, just the defiant “No!” over and over again.
It’s heartbreaking because I can’t say much that consoles him and he often resorts to hitting me or himself. I can’t imagine he’s getting any sort of restful sleep, and I know that I’m definitely not. Whatever passes for that these days, I’m not really sure. But another night passes and tomorrow I sleep in my own bed.