I struggle with the Ick Factor. Perhaps it's because of that scene from Ocean's 13 where they fill that poor guy's room with bed bugs and some bizarre strain of the flu virus, or maybe I watched too many 20/20 episodes on hotel cleanliness investigations, but I just don't enjoy it. I don't sleep well or eat well. I wonder if the sheets are actually clean. I think about who else has had their bare feet in the shower. Did they take the remote into the bathroom? I didn't want to take my baby into a hotel without proper precautions, so I packed a tube of Clorox Wipes and Justin and I gave that room a proper once-over.
Quinlan on the other hand - she was all.about.it. I don't know how she could possibly be my child. She practically dove into the sheets.
She snarled and grabbed and twisted up the pillow cases.
She growled and grunted and kicked her little feet all about.
She flopped herself over once. Twice. Again and again.
She fussed when I tried picking her up and returned to her perfectly content state of mind once reunited with her beloved bedsheets.
She even watched a little T.V.
But then that got boring and she returned to the love of her life: The Hotel Bed.
And she was so, so happy.
But all that loving and kicking and grabbing and grunting is hard for a little girl. Exhausting, even.
And after a restful night's sleep in her Pack n' Play, Little Miss decided she wanted some more time with The Big Bed.
So I tucked her sweet bottom in between me and Justin and it was Happily Ever After.