Are you getting tired of hearing me talk about adventures in dragging my two-year-old around Indonesia?
I'm kind of tired, but I think that's because I just spent the last two weeks dragging my two-year-old around Indonesia.
After our time in North Sulawesi, we spent four days in Bali engaging in what is, quite possibly, the most obnoxious form of tourism. We checked into our super fancy luxury resort (I KNOW, I can't believe they let us in either, but it was free, so) and we didn't leave the hotel property until we checked out. Nearly every waking moment was spent in the pool and / or ocean. Stella learned to swim* and I learned to surf. Which, ps, is the greatest. It's been a life long dream of mine, something that I told myself that I'd do when we moved to Japan ( but instead I got knocked up.)
*where swimming = wearing a life jacket, and floating independently for 10 seconds, slightly panicked, but not clinging to me for deal life.
We ate pizza pool-side, got nice and golden, and lazed around pretending to be fabulous Russian oligarchs.
But alas, the illusion was shattered by several scatological incidents and an unexpected night swim.
I'll leave the former to your imagination, but as for the latter, here's the deal: While we were enjoying a glass of wine (water for the two-year-old) in the super fabulous club lounge, a certain little person dove head first into the adject fish pond which, as it turns out, happens to be home to one rather substantial monitor lizard. This necessitated a second panicked leap into the pond as I dove in after Stella. I hoisted Stella out before the lizard got wind of our visit to his habitat, and we stood in the middle of the lounge, sopping wet, hearts racing, and totally beyond embarrassed.
I took some solace in the fact that a grown woman managed the same maneuver two nights later and concluded that the whole thing was a result of poor lighting and not an error in parental judgment.