A weekend away

The teddies, grot boy and I were all very tired so we decided to have a weekend away. It’s been a big year of (mis)adventures and fun, and we agreed a short holiday before Christmas would help us prepare for all the end-of-year parties.

Grot boy booked us into a luxurious hotel in the mountains where we could go for walks, eat scrumptuous meals, and sleep in a big comfortable bed while outside was dark and quiet, unlike our city home. That is, he booked it after I found the place I wanted to stay, handed him a piece of paper with the phone number, email address and required dates, and gave him instructions on what to do.

Dwight insisted that we all pack our best outfits. “The hotel has a grand restaurant where everyone dresses up for dinner so Bobby and Hephie and Ccino have to dress up and grot boy CANNOT wear his jeans,” she instructed us.

Restaurant desert_BobbyBobby was happy to comply. He informed us, “Grand restaurants always have delicious deserts. I like it best when they give you a special pre-desert desert and then yummy chocolates to go with your coffee, even though I don’t drink coffee.”

After a two-hour drive we arrived at the hotel, pulled up in the drive full of expensive cars and jumped out of our car excited by the opulence and extravagance. We were expecting to be greeted by cries of:

“Would you like me to park your car, sir?

“Madam, let me take your bag for you.”

“Welcome, we hope you enjoy your stay.”

Instead, a rather stern looking concierge marched up to grot boy, telling him, “No pets allowed, sir.”

At first we were confused. “We don’t have any pets,” grot boy told him, then noticed he was frowning at the teddies. Having worked out what was going on, I quickly told the concierge, “That’s OK. We’ll leave them in the car.”

Grot boy and the teddies started to protest very loudly and Hephie started to cry so I quickly bundled them all into the car explaining, “We’ll just go and park ourselves, sir. We don’t need valet parking, thank you.”

Suitcase teddies 1As soon as the concierge could no longer see us I explained, “Shhh everyone! We’re not going to let some silly hotel rule ruin our holiday. Bobby, Dwight, Hephie, Ccino –you can all hop into the suitcase, but make sure you don’t start giggling as we wheel it across the foyer and into our room. When we go out for the day, you can all hide in the backpacks until we’re clear of the hotel.”

“And what about our dinner at the grand restaurant?” both Bobby and Dwight wanted to know.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get room service. You will just have to hide under the bed covers when they deliver the food. We’ll have our own special, private party.”

I had it all worked out.

© teddybearlife.com, 2014

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