EVERYTHING
FOR YOUR FAMILY
KID
QUIPS
“One night, my 3-year-old asked me if she could sleep in my bed. I told her no. She said, “That’s not fair! Why does Daddy get to sleep in your bed?” READ MORE
Mom on the Edge
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And you thought the heat wave stayed in SoCal So it came to pass that our family willingly went on a vacation to Las Vegas. I’m still not sure how this happened. I think it sprang less from a single moment than from one of those vague decisional clouds whose murky origins neither parent can quite remember. Perhaps the first seed was a clusterlet of Cirque du Soleil tickets. Yes. Off the Internet. Via my husband, for whom, on the Internet, everything looks irresistible, from log cabins that come in a kit to a $130 one-foot-long bass harmonica. Which, if you’re curious, does indeed make a very low note. Onto that clusterlet of tickets grew an experimental strand of two $69-a-room nights at the Excalibur which, upon entering the kitchen, I soon nixed. Drawn into my husband’s flurry of keyboard clicking, I found myself on a page full of customer reviews of the Excalibur, woeful Beowulfian tales of cigarette smoke and stainage. I suggested to my daughters’ father that our family was not so poor that we couldn’t afford $79.50 a night for four people, perhaps even $89.99. With that in mind, we sprang for the four-star Luxor, where we got a super-duper giant deluxe whirlpool suite for $90. . . or $130. . . or $180 if you threw in the rollaway. Never mind – it was fabulous, complete with a faux Egyptian column into which the TV magically rose up and down. Cirque du Soleil was also spectacular, fueled with enough taiko drummers to drown out our stunned gasps of “Holy sh&*^#!” The problem was, waking up the next morning, we were still in Vegas. Or at least, in our sumptuous Luxor suite which, very much like ancient Egypt, lacked a coffee maker, microwave, and anything to read other than ad-filled Vegas magazines. Bewildered by a lack of caffeine, I found myself wandering the lobby in search of buffalo wings, a two-foot-tall strawberry daiquiri in the shape of the Eiffel Tower or, for amusement, a funny country music comedy show starring Harley-driving topless women. It was at this point that I was approached by two men in suits, quietly offering me some two-for-one jousting for that evening – family buffet jousting. Too soon, the event was sold out. Perspiring slightly, the men returned, suggesting, for my children, an afternoon magic show, a puppet show or, for $4.99 apiece, possibly a spontaneous backstage visit with some tired clowns. By that point, I would have been thrilled with Carrot Top, not even his regular show but his shavings, his gratings, his leavings. Fortunately, my husband dragged me off before I could make a deal. But I’d gamble again, on family fun in Vegas. If they waved another coupon. Have bass harmonica, will travel. m |
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