We noticed with all the various and sundry that have passed through the B&B that there is always a little trace of the visitor that remains. Sometimes it's a t-shirt or a toothbrush and then sometimes it's something more delicate and subtile. Something that will take years to get rid of.
For example, when one of our nieces visited us about two summers ago, she had a fascination with salt and plain pasta. I think that was pretty much all she ate the entire time she was here. Hence, why we blame her that our kids are now addicted to salt and spaghetti. I don't think I owned a salt shaker till she came visit and now you'd think the kids were buying stock in it the way they try to dump it on everything.
Our other niece who was with us last summer, introduced the people to another fun food: chocolate breakfast cereal. Now, I don't know if niece #2 even gets to eat the stuff at her house, but she sure did when she was here and now I can't keep Choco-Pops or Chockella in the house for love or money. I try to avoid getting the stuff but grocery trips during the school vacations usually do me in. You try navigating a cereal aisle with three people who are just the right height to grab those boxes.
But I think the worst has to be what Madame Home Depot has left behind with us this time. See, for some strange reason, she gets horribly car sick each and every time we go out. It doesn't matter if she's riding with Hubster or with me, if we take the 4x4 or the station wagon, or if I drive like a snail or Michael Schumacher. Every time, she's got the back of her head plastered to the passenger seat headrest, sunglasses on, and hand out the window.
Yesterday, while she stayed here at the house, I took the kids out for a morning playdate. On the way home, I took the usual routes and drove as I normally do down the back lanes to the village. When we were about 5 kilometers from the house, I hear a little voice peep up from the back of the station wagon.
"Mom," Mini-Husband whispered, "do you think you could slow down a bit? I'm feeling really car sick."
I glanced at him in the rearview mirror. There he sat with his head dramatically plastered to the headrest, blinking his eyes furiously to shield them from the sun.
"Yeah mom," chimed in The Princess holding the same posture, "I'm feeling sick too."
"And me too," whimpered Bubba-Love.
I'm frightened to take them out in the car now. I can't even imagine what this will mean for our next drive to England.
As for Madame Home Depot, the next time she's here, she's getting her own rental car.