Well, Spacex shot a rocket into space last night– we should make it to France, no problem!
The kids have been dealing with getting up at 4am this morning and heading to the airport in a positive way– we just suggested an early dinner (like, WAY early, California-time… there’s no blue-plate-special at 1:30pm, right?), and we’re hoping that translates to LOTS of sleeping on the plane.
Theoretically, our plan is to arrive, get down to the rental cars, drive to the Dordogne, and be there in time to have dinner with friends at a reasonable hour. Then (again theoretically), we’ve got put these kids to bed, wrap a bunch of presents, and otherwise make ready for Christmas morning– whilst the kids go AND STAY IN bed, all four of them having (how far are we pushing “theoretical,” here?) successfully reset their built-in diurnal clocks to French time.
Not sure exactly when the sleeping is going to happen for Lana and I. I’m really excited about it NOT happening on the six-ish hour long drive from Charles de Gaulle to Baynac-et-Cazenac— that drive seems like it could go anywhere from great (presuming sleep on the plane) to hellish (predicated on no sleep or parenting catastrophe on the plane).
Hopefully, the sleeping schedule transition for the kids happens, you know, somewhat “naturally…” (read: SUPERnaturally quick and easy). Reflecting back on Dash’s crazy sleeping patterns at the beginning of the last trip, though, that may not be SUPER likely.
Dashiell is very excited that The Santa Claus (capitals his) is going to be able to find us whilst we are abroad. I told him Santa can do it, and that he doesn’t even use a smartphone. Dash asked why Santa doesn’t have an iPhone. I said, “obviously, he hasn’t been good enough.” Dash was non-plussed for a second, pondering the philosophical construction of Santa’s relative goodness, but replied with the always trenchant “Rudolph is a T-Rex.”
Saurian guide animals, extinct or not, obviously preclude the need for GPS.
Dash also would like to be able to give The Santa Claus a big hug… I’m not entirely sure how THAT part is going to work out. Given the possibilty of hollow-eyed sleep zombies walking around at odd hours, maybe he’ll manage to make the dream happen… only Santa might have a much browner beard.
All that being said, we’re going to board, shortly, and Dash has changed to his new shark jams (another part of the strategy to help him believe it’s the “right time to sleep”), so we’ll bid you adieu– next post from France!
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