The City

Late Friday afternoon, on an uncharacteristic whim, my husband came home from work and said, "let's get out of here for the weekend."  We scrambled around online looking for places to go, places to stay.  We even considered hopping a plane to anywhere we could find a last minute deal.  We decided to do what we always say we should do more often - go to Seattle.  The city we live just over an hour from but rarely venture to.  The city, when mentioned to the girls, that conjures up only images of airport comings and goings. 

By 8 p.m. we were walking into the lobby of our hotel.  Four country mice with our duffel bag and well used stroller in tow.  The man checking us in liked our story of spontaneous family get-away, and mentioned something under his breath about upgrading us to a corner unit so we'd have a little more room.  By more room, we assumed he meant two feet on either side of the bed rather than one foot - and maybe an extra pillow or two.

We walked into this:

A suite bigger than our house.  We spent the next hour freaking out with excitement and exploring every room.  Two bathrooms!  Three closets!  A TV in the mirror of the bathroom!  The view of the city!  Smell this shampoo!  There's a perfect bed for my baby doll!  

 

With a lot of threats and bribery we convinced the girls to leave our temporary palace on the 15th floor and stepped out into the city.  Pike Place Market, the waterfront, french food, street music, crowds, weirdos, high heels, smooth suits, gamers, football fans, sailor moon, the tropical butterfly house, the monorail.  We went for it.

We ducked back in for swims in the salt water pool and naps in the giant bed and room service french fries.

It was the best.