Pulling into Conway, AR at midnight with 4 kids in tow, 3 sleeping fitfully while the teenager endlessly talks to her mama.
One room, please.
Two adults.
Two kids.
You know the drill. Or at least you do if you over-actively procreate.
You love God, you want to do right.
Not aiming to break the rules, but *not* about to double-down on the night's donation to the local economy by getting that 2nd room. That's why we brought the camping cot and sleeping pads.
The Mrs. is brazen. Doesn't care what I just told the hotel attendant. She's pulling every kid she can find through the hotel lobby. I don't even know 2 of them. The credit card has been run, my dear Sir, and the room is ours.
I, on the other-hand, am hiding behind the plastic palm tree across from yesterday's USA Today, wondering if I can pitch my hammock by the indoor pool to lessen our hotel-room occupancy load, and planning my morning fast to offset the entourage who will wake up in about an hour to devour the free breakfast with abandon.
