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Hotel Ian



While Mel's Mom, Carmen, was staying with us, Ian hosted Reagan in his bunk beds. He called his room Hotel Ian and was a proud innkeeper. It seems lately (now that Carmen is back at the beach in PR) business has been rather slow for the hotel. So, he invited me to spend the night.

I found this sign on the door. Sure Open is spelled wrong (if you follow this blog, you know attention to details is not my forte) but the "no dogs" part cracks me up. Ian loves dogs and is part of the We Need A Dog Coalition (which is pretty much everyone else, save me). So the "no dogs" is purely for humor. Love it.

So at some unGodly hour that Mel gets up (she assures me it is normal) I sneaked into Hotel Ian and climbed into the top bunk. Ian awoke to find me there (he was in the bottom bunk, which is the traditional home of the 2nd born child. He was thrilled.

So yeah, I lie to my kids. The bunk mattress is no winner and I think the plastic is still on the pillows. And it made Ian so happy.

I am off to the hotel gift shop, I kid you not. Ian is selling things there such as his inflatable guitar which we won at a game of chance at the carnival. The game cost me $3 but Ian is selling the guitar for $15. He insists there was a lot of skill in getting the prize. Funny, I thought I was done getting ripped off by the carnival when I left the parking lot. Apparently not.

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