The race...

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Last night I posted a facebook status of 'Pina Colada heaven'...

I'd like to update that status to 'Pina Colada Hell' this morning. This is the problem with going away with your adult children.  There is an element of keeping up with the Joneses, and last night, I think that not only did I keep up, but I overtook the husband around 11.45pm, and it was a photo finish between me and daughter number one as we crossed the hotel threshold around midnight.  (This is a complete guess time wise, it could have been Thursday the state I was in).

Anyway, this will teach me from straying from the relatively watered down straight and narrow of the hotel's all inclusive drinks menu. Going forward, I shall be staying within the comparative safety of the hotel bar, rather than walking down to dubious pirate-themed bars to drink cocktails with enough feathers in them to stuff a pillow.

Hangover aside, we are having a fabulous time.  The four kids all went out on our first night here, having only had around two hours sleep the night before, and painted the town red.  In the case of daughter number two, there was an element of bathroom redecoration too I understand. The problem is, that the husband has a rule when we go on holiday.  That rule is..

'Whatever time you got in the night before, and whatever state you are in this morning, YOU WILL BE DOWN FOR BREAKFAST'.

Three of the four managed it, and sat very quietly while they stuffed their faces with crispy bacon and fresh coffee. Daughter number one, who has the alcohol capacity of around half a glass of white wine was nowhere to be seen, and by the time she surfaced, the other three were in complete recline decline in the deckchairs.  

The husband is enjoying being with the kids.  You may have gathered that he is quite competitive (this is the biggest understatement ever) and yesterday, thinking that there might be a small advantage over them as they were all hungover, he challenged the kids to every sport which the hotel had to offer...

Table Tennis?
He lost to son number two 3-0
Tennis?
He lost to son number one 4-2
Snorkelling in the sea?

This was actually a draw between him and daughter number one, but not content with that, he insisted on swimming back to the hotel rather than take the easier, more sensible, safer footpath.  By the time he surfaced (literally) we'd all managed lunch and another round of drinks, but we didn't let on, not wanting to see that lower lip of his sticking out in a sulk.

Today I shall be mainly sticking to the water I think.  This will go really well until daughter number one pipes up with, 'Anyone fancy a Sangria?'

Aah well....



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