One math learning objective of elementary students includes the ability to measure according to non-standard units. Like, how many bananas tall is Mrs. Mosiman? Similar to George Costanza being "discovered" as a hand model on an episode of Seinfeld, Katie could one day be swept up by a State Educational System as the ideal example of unconventional measurement because of her perfectly-proportioned toes. "You could draw a line with them," she said proudly when I admired the gentle 25 degree slope of her foot fingers. She admitted to being somewhat self-conscious about her big toe (The "captain" if you're interested in relevant and timely Seinfeld references) but the suggestion that we could put a paper bag over that appendage appeased her fears of impending footdom fame.
Vacationing with Katie is always a treat. We were once driving to Ocean City with a car-load of young people when Eminem's duet with Rihanna came on the radio. I was assigned the complicated six-lined chorus of "Love the Way You Lie" while Katie tackled the easier-to-handle rap section. She did okay.
Katie arrived dressed as though she were escaping Nazi Germany. "What's in her bag then," I asked as. like an onion, she peeled layer upon layer of her travel clothes from her body at the hotel. "Her air mattress," Geri replied. Ah yes...the air mattress. This item will be making another appearance in this series but for now...we'll focus on Katie's unique set of priorities. "What are you doing," I asked as she began the complication steps of deflating Geri's float tube that she'd purchased for fifteen dollars at the hotel for the privilege of floating down the hotel's Lazy River. "I'm taking this home," she answered. "How will that fit in your bag with your air mattress," I wondered. Kate then explained that she would be ditching the air mattress in lieu of the float tube to accommodate her plans of drifting down the Genesee River. There was then a brief conversation about whether the hotel would let her lay on the air mattress in the Lazy River. "They did let some kid with an inflatable alligator in there," I conceded. I admit, these are NOT conversations that I have at home.
Miss Kate moves at her own speed and isn't as susceptible to feeling guilty if she misses her mother's 6:30 am wake-up calls so we would often meet her at the park. Occasionally, when we'd arrived at a destination by shuttle, then escalator, then people-mover, and finally boat, our group could be difficult to locate as evidenced by Kate's haunting haiku that she texted to me en-route:
At Universal
Getting on this big a$$ bus
Might be getting lost
I enjoy re-capping the events of the day as evening closes and had shared that Katie's lunch duck was one of my favorite moments. Confused, as she is vigilant about her strict diet, Katie said, "Wait! I didn't eat duck for lunch!" No...Katie had eaten lunch WITH a duck! One of her go-to snacks on the trip was "Moon Cheese." I LOVE cheese! LOVE it! Warning to the human population: THIS IS NOT CHEESE! (sirens....flashing lights...blaring horns)...repeat...THIS IS NOT CHEESE! Okay...technically it is cheese but the manufacturers sucked every ounce of cheese-like goodness out of it. And, technically, the advertising is basically honest: Made into "the tastiest snack possible." Possible. Uh huh...did you catch that?
It was hot in Florida (go figure) and Katie's favorite rides were, not surprisingly, water-related. "How wet could we possibly get," as we studied Popeye and Bluto's Bilge-Rat Barge. All through the line, Katie kept reassuring us that this would just be a refreshing ride. I got soaked just sitting down on the seat. I've come out of showers (Universal Resort, 7th floor, Continental, Room #7534) drier than I was getting off that ride. We waddled our way through the park to return to our room to change. The only thing that made me feel better was watching Katie clutch the waistband of her water-logged shorts or she'd have lost them for sure. The remainder of our park visit was spent ignoring Katie when she suggested a water ride.
Turns out, Katie and I communicate on a multitude of levels. With the television's volume having been turned down to an almost-indistinguishable level, I fell into an exhaustive slumber at the end of the day. The flashing of the screen, however, interrupted any hope of a deep sleep cycle and I would wake, again and again...hour after hour, burying my face under piles of pillows and blankets until I feared I would self-smother, emerging out of that claustrophobic cocoon, gasping for air. Finally, by 4 am, I couldn't take it anymore. Felt up the TV like a physician of a sport's team but couldn't locate the power button. Irrationally hysterical, I began pulling plugs from the wall with Superhuman force. Coffee maker. Lamps. Cell phone chargers. Geri's iron. Arrrggggg!!! Where was the plug for the TV? Katie suddenly bolted straight up from her air mattress and a projectile came hurtling at me across the room. The remote! I pushed the power button and collapsed back onto my bed, hearing Katie hit at the same time. This, folks, is what good communication can accomplish!
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