Vacations – with a toddler or with Facebook.

Vacation with a toddler	Vacation without one but with Facebook
You are woken up by a hungry toddler poking a wet finger in your ear. You wake up real fast wondering how the finger got wet.	You wake up in each other’s arms when sleep is all done. You check Facebook and update your status to make sure everyone knows how great your day is.
Breakfast starts of tons of whipped cream over waffles and end up with most of the cream in or on you. You gulp down coffee for strength.	Breakfast is a lazy affair – with cups of coffee as you talk and look at the ocean ahead. You check into foursquare and smile at your mayor status. It is an awesome day indeed.
After breakfast you pack up the stroller, the snack bag, the toys for the car, the toys for the beach, the post beach clothes, extra clothes, extra sunscreen, extra juice, extra whatever you have.	After breakfast you wonder which beach you want to laze on and go there. You check into the beach.
At the beach you – yes you – make a sandcastle, a sand car, a sand princess, a sand frog, you chase crabs and you end up with a massive pile of broken sea shells and rocks. You swap positions with your spouse to replenish yourself with some beer so you can make an even bigger sandcastle with a fort filled with water.	At the beach you lie down with a book and a drink, maybe just the drink. You take a photo of your drink and post it on Facebook.
Lunch consists of a few very expensive pieces of questionable chicken meat shaped into dinosaurs. Like the whipped cream at breakfast most of the ketchup is on or in you. The post chicken nugget ice-cream with sprinkles follows the ketchup on you.	Lunch is a seafood platter and you two feeding each other. And taking photos posting it on Facebook.
Post lunch activities abound, you walk the local aquarium with its few star fish looking longingly at the ocean (I know they can see the ocean… but you get the point). Then you climb into the carousel, the bumper cars and the jump bumpy bus at the marina fun rides center.	You lie down with a book and a drink, maybe just the drink. You smile and reply to all the comments from friend jealous of your check-in’s and photos. You post another strategically taken shot of your toes, the ocean and beer.
You pack up the stroller, the snack bag, the toys for the car, the toys for the beach, the dirty pre-beach clothes, the dirty post-beach clothes, unused sunscreen, extra juice, pebbles, broken seashells, two huge balloons, the stuffed toy you were surprised to win at the fun center and half eaten cotton candy. You take all this and the sleeping toddler to the car.	You pick up your book (or maybe not) and stroll in the opposite direction from the fun rides center. You check for latest comments and catch up on what everyone else is up to. Up goes the photo of a sunset with a catchy caption – clever enough to garner plenty of comments.
At the hotel it is time for a bath, then a ‘fancy’ dinner at the Rainforest café. The elephant trumpets in your ear and a strategically placed monkey freaks you out every time it swings above your head. Judgment impaired you order the chocolate volcano cake filled with chocolate sauce and ice cream. Sugar High.	At the hotel you soak in the tub, maybe with a bottle of wine, discussing the book or the hazy dreams you had at the beach. You debate hitting a happening club or the new French restaurant. You chose one and update it on Facebook.
It takes time and energy to catch, bathe and then cajole a chocolate and ice cream stuffed toddler zoned out on sugar into bed. Weirdly the sugar seems to have slowed you down and you are almost asleep on the toddler’s bed.	You come back very tipsy and giggly and almost pass out on the couch. You shake yourself up and let people on Facebook know how tipsy you are.
Finally you grab a glass of wine and sit in the balcony with your feet up. And those fifteen minutes right there feels like a vacation.	You wake up wondering if you really posted what you think you posted and hope it was a dream. As deleting is not possible from your phone you unpack your laptop and pay for wifi so you can delete your status. You lie there freaked out – wondering if everyone at work read it.