I pulled a mussel laughing at the all-you-can-eat buffet

"Why aren't you blogging about your trip?" my husband asked, frowning at me. I shrugged. "There really wasn't all that much to write about," I admitted, "It was just a nice, ordinary vacation." Brad stared at me. He paused, taking a deep breath before addressing me. "I think," he said slowly, "that you have gotten in the mind-set of believing a story is not worth telling unless something humiliating, odd, or catastrophic occurs." 

I considered this.

"Cabo is a revolving destination door for thousands of people a day," I explained. "For the shops, the restaurants, the resorts and the expeditions...every day is Ground Hog's Day." Brad sighed. "Trust me," he encouraged, "Your version and perspective is less Ground Hog's Day and more National Lampoon." 

He quickly organized a spreadsheet of his favorite topics:  Amy on a camel. Amy giggling immaturely at the buffet. Amy appalled at a swim-up bar. Amy appalled at the foam party. Amy foregoing her plan to tackle the Big Five each day (margarita: no repeat flavors, daiquiri: no repeat flavors, Pina colada, mimosa, and a specialty cocktail: no repeats) to switch exclusively to tequila. 

The common denominator across all the categories was the giggling. Admittedly, Sydney and I are the least mature members of our family. We are easily amused and impressed. "Complimentary" beer during the shuttle ride to the resort could not be passed up. We grabbed our cans and cackled like naughty hens. I began a stimulating conversation with a man from Saskatchewan about their abundant soybean harvest while Sydney fretted that one beer tended to make her sleepy. I dismissed her worries before resuming my Canadian conversation by bragging about Wyoming County's plethora of potatoes. I'm not sure if it was the beer or the boasting, but we began to lose Sydney. Fortunately, we'd arrived at the resort. "Wow! Time really fries when you're having fun," I smiled at my neighbor to the north before nudging Sydney awake. "We'll ketchup with you later!" I waved as we exited the shuttle.

The second round of giggles occurred the minute we walked into our state room. 

The predominant feature of the room was...a bathtub.

We giggled at the tub, the generously-stocked-with complimentary-beverages mini-fridge, the mini bar, the rain shower, and the weirdly-shaped but well-intended towel sculpture perched on our bed.

We pulled ourselves together enough to go down to dinner.

We were sophisticated. "Thank you, sir, for pulling out my chair for me." Elegant. "Yes, a drink would be lovely." Poised. "Let me spread this fine linen napkin demurely across my lap." Cultured. And reserved. A credit to the good Mosiman name.

Until we weren't.

One step into the "buffet" and we were done.

Wide eyed. One might say bulging...like in a cartoon.

Giggling to the point of guffawing.

There was some pointing. Gesturing (like a Price is Right model motioning to A BRAND NEW CAR!).

Hissing. Shouting. Gasps of delight. A lengthy photo shoot.

We finally came to our senses when Sydney dipped her hand into the two-story chocolate fountain like she was going to baptize herself with Holy Water. 

Time to go.

To giggle another day.