Now, we didn't just head off on holiday and expect him to be happy in the travel bed. No no, we were planned and prepared. First he had played in it at home. Then he had napped in it at home. Then he slept the night in it at home. And then slept many naps and nights in it at the cabin. So I thought we were all good.
Ummmmm. WRONG! It may have been the travel bed. It may have been just being away from home. It may have been the hotel room and that he knew we were in there too. It may have been sore tummy because lots of food was going in and none coming out. It may have been a growth spurt. BUT HE WOULDN'T SLEEP!!!! And after he did eventually go to sleep he woke up at 10:30. He woke up at 2:30. He woke up at 4. Then he woke up at 5-5:30 and that was it. MORNING! So we were the first to breakfast.
And then.... THEN... he wouldn't sleep in our bed or the travel bed during the day. He would sleep in the stroller though. Well that's good. Except... we were staying on the second floor. There is no lift. So. When he is awake we walk around town with him in the front pack. When he is asleep we walk around with him in the stroller. So we do not nap. And on the second night I had an attack of the awakes (I hate the awakes!) so was up until about 1am myself.
Tired much? Oh my gosh so achingly screamingly tired. So, driving six hours to the hotel we had booked in Sweden, having a day or two there then driving back to Norway did not seem like a fun plan at all. So we came home. And I have never seen anyone so happy to be home. When we walked in the door he just looked and looked and then lay on the floor and just rolled around and smiled and smiled (we usually don't get much floor time before he starts complaining), it was quite funny.
But apart from that small issue he was a superstar. Walking down the street with him in the front pack everyone would smile at him and he certainly seemed well rested and happy. All the shops were little and up stairs from the street so it was great having the front pack for him, and the hotel was right in town so going back and switching to the stroller was no problem and the town was just so lovely it was fine walking around a lot and our awesome stroller had no problems going up the mine mountain (you know, the stuff left over from blasting the mine.)
He was really good in the car as well, apart from the first hour during which we looked at each other and said "This holiday was a really dumb idea," and the very last when we kept saying "Home soon!!! Home soon!!!" And singing Bingo was his name-o and Old Macdonald had a Farm. Seriously, the only songs that would stop him from crying.
Trying to fix the sore tummy. A jar of prunes did the trick (I hate my new obsession with bowel movements though must say that when he was on an every-second-day schedule and Mr T and I were having a sleep in every second day he drew the short straw! That was nice).
Hmmm... Pappa is far more interesting than food!
Last driving break, twenty minutes from home. Just on our side of the long (5 km) tunnel under the fjord - he hates the tunnels and I think it is because he thinks we are putting him to bed. And he can't see his toys.
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