what a difference a year makes

So, we took our second-ever plane trip with Kiddo this weekend. As any of you who were around for the previous adventure will remember, the first time was kind of a nightmare.

"Surely you are speaking of someone else."

Thus, we (or at least Dadoo) were stressed out well in advance. Fortunately we were only going down to Oakland so the flight was pretty short. And this time we were armed.

Say 'hello' to the pink portable DVD player.
Did I mention that it's pink?

It did take a minute to get her to understand the whole "turn off your portable electronic devices" bit, but the ride was delightfully uneventful, otherwise.

We checked into our hotel, and in spite of requesting a crib -- twice! -- one never came. There was a pull-out bed in the couch so Yuki had her first turn in a grown up bed. That afternoon's nap was 90 minutes of her climbing into bed, rolling across, and climbing down the other side. Repeat.

"Surely you are speaking of someone else."

So, not very rested, we ventured out to have dinner with Uncle Frank and Aunt Masayo in Alameda. They are Mimi's only relatives who live stateside and Frank was Mimi's surrogate dad when she went to high school in San Rafael. Also, they are totally swell.

We'd love them even if they hadn't bought us dinner.

Kiddo was a bit of a pain at first, but warmed up after getting some food in her stomach and after Uncle Frank's many efforts to get a smile out of her. Everybody was good pals by the end of the evening.

Since the nap never happened we had an early-ish night. Saturday was going to be busy so we wanted everybody to be as not-cranky as possible.

Saturday morning started around 2:30 when we were awoken by a "THUMP ... waaaaa ..." Seems somebody rolled all the way to the foot of her big-girl bed and just kept rolling. I found her under the chair. I scooped her up and got her back into bed and she went right back to sleep. I didn't, but she was fine.

Later that morning, we made our way to Golden Gate Park. I had read that there was a terrific playground there and it was true! Thanks, Internet! We started with a carousel ride.

She requested the zebra and really enjoyed the ride,
despite the expression.

Then we ventured into the actual playground area which was like some crazy playground Shangri-La and really shamed every other playground we've ever visited. Ever.

We make our own fun.

Then we discovered the water feature and there went the rest of the morning. Kiddo was really enjoying herself, we think, because her expression didn't change the whole time. I guess you'd call it "determined."

Our daughter the scientist. It would serve us right, I guess.

We finally lured her away with the promise of another carousel ride. This time she requested the lion.

No, seriously, she was really having fun.

Then we ventured out into "The City" to rustle up some lunch. We found a great Mexican place and by "great" I mean "we found a parking place right in front of it." Actually, it was pretty good, and we got to have lunch with this guy.

We call him "Mustache Guy." Not sure he was so interested in being photographed.

And since we needed to pick up diapers, and we were in the neighborhood famous for its diapers, we got some at the drug store across the street.

Our daughter is a million laughs.

Then we drove around for an hour because, damn it, somebody was going to nap whether she wanted to or not.

"Surely you are speaking of someone ... zzzzzzzzzzzzz"

That evening we were off to the Main Event of the weekend. The wedding of my old high school pal Darrel, and the lovely Joanne. Kiddo wanted nothing to do with anybody at first, maybe to avoid stuff like this:

Apparently I misunderstood who got to kiss whom at a wedding.

but eventually she became her usual dancing-fool self.

This was before she had cake.

So, things went swimmingly. Kiddo behaved herself beautifully the whole time and we are now cautiously optimistic about taking the longer trip to Tokyo in November.

It was a great little vacation, even if our hotel room was totally haunted.