the youngest common denominator

When I can't call to mind the name of the person who made a witty remark I want to quote, I attribute the remark to Oscar Wilde or Dorothy Parker, and there are decent odds that I'll be right. At this moment, however, I want to lead off by saying "There are two ways to travel, first class and with children," and I'm pretty sure neither of those two luminaries even remotely considered the possibility of travelling with children.


For the longest time my experience of travelling with children was limited to travelling with Himself when he hadn't had enough to eat. Seriously. Laden down with emergency supplies - I'm the gal who brought Pepperidge Farm brownies to China (mediocre, yes, but they had enough preservatives to last the entire trip and at the time there wasn't much chocolate in China) - I was always the one who had the bandaid, the scissors, the hand wipes, the mini-roll of tissue, the rubber band, the coffee pot and paper filters, extra shampoo that didn't smell like cough syrup, the sudafed.... Himself would grumble What are you fussing about? They have toothpaste in Cambodia! But after an adventure with garlic in rural France when the only store that was open had only licorice-flavored toothpaste for sale, he's learned not to question my finely-honed sense of impending catastrophe. Fortunately, I didn't have to carry diapers, but I still stash extra underpants in my carry-on. And extra shoes, natch.


When travelling with real children, I brought everything you would expect, and twice the amount of wipes and on-the-road laundry supplies any reasonable adult would consider necessary. And while I always had a rule that they were responsible for their own luggage, I hid spare outfits for each of them in mine. Just in case.
So here we are in America, visiting family in Seattle, and one reason we are made to feel welcome is that we don't charge for staying with the teensiest while their parents go out to eat at a restaurant that has tablecloths. When we visit, these enlightened parents suspend snack and bedtime rules, too.

Even the most charming of children can get bored or hyper or both. This is where it helps to be shameless. Himself will sit down and begin to read aloud - anything. My role is to act out what he's reading using the silent art of Interpretive Dance. Fortunately I have absolutely no talent for dance, no dignity, and no sense of embarrassment. The resulting performances redefine silly, especially since Himself gets into the spirit of things by reading faster (faster! faster!) or slower, as inappropriate.


The teensiest are approaching the age where anything an elderly relative, including but not limited to a parent, does is embarrassing, so we feel it's important to enjoy this while we can. If you're visiting an Important Historical Monument with someone who hasn't studied the history of that locality, one statue or battlefield is pretty much like any other, and the lady standing on tiptoes waving one arm in the air while gesturing for help with the other is likely to be me acting out the Battle of Solferino or the Discovery of King Tut's Tomb or the Signing of the Declaration of Independence. As the case may be.

Of course, if a child is not one's own, there are topics one should strive to reserve for the parental decision-makers.

• All the teachers in my school are pregnant.


• Really.


• Yes, the first grade teachers, the second grade teachers, the third grade teachers...


• All of them?


• Yes, except the kindergarten teacher.


• Well, that's a relief.


• She just had twins, so she doesn't have to be pregnant for a while.


• I see.


• Dad said maybe it's something in the water.


• Uh-huh.


• But I think they've been doing sex.


• (stunned silence)


• But just in case, can I have a coke instead? 


• Oh, absolutely.