So we’ve been talking for weeks about our upcoming trip to Florida. It’s exciting, you see, since we haven’t taken a vacation in nearly two years. That’s a lifetime for us. And even though this vacation destination is relative-oriented, it will be so much fun for the kiddo.
The talking has been mainly about how we’re getting to the Land of Sunshine. Scott, for instance, is a big fan of roadtrips. He embarked on many before we ever met, and he’s dragged me along on a few since then. For him, the best kind of getaway would be to strap Devin into his car seat and hit the road. For hours and hours and hours.
My preference? Well, I decided to go along with his idea since I knew it would make him happy. And last night we sat down together and went over maps and routes and timing. We spent nearly and hour and a half segmenting the trip down and back, being sure to include several cool spots for sightseeing.
Then, this morning, as if awakened from a drunken stupor, we both agreed, nearly simultaneously, that flying would be better.
It’s how decision-making happens in our household. Or how it doesn’t.