Yet another item to add to the ever-growing list titled Strange Things My Child Has Caused Me to Say:
"Stop tying your legs together and finish packing your suitcase!"
... Yeah, I'm not sure what she was doing either.
Anyway, as is no doubt apparent, G and I are getting ready to leave on a trip. She's old enough now to be helpful (when she's not busy lashing her limbs to each other) in that she can pack her own suitcase and carry-on bag. However, I still have to come in afterward and inspect her work to make sure she hasn't packed shorts for 40-degree weather or thrown in 10 shirts and no underwear.
She's also been known to try to pack things that are, shall we say, unnecessary. I feel for her -- when I was her age, we moved from Texas to California, and I whined and cried until my dad agreed to let me transport my papier-mâché Thanksgiving turkey craft all 1,560 miles in the hatchback of our car -- but I'm not letting her stuff her bag with random items until it's so heavy she can't carry it, either.
(I know. I am a mean, mean mother. So mean that I'm taking her on a thrilling trip to the world's greatest city, where she'll be ice-skating at Rockefeller Plaza, riding in a horse-drawn carriage through Central Park, and getting her own American Girl doll. Oh, the humanity!)
On another note, I don't know about anyone else, but every single time we go anywhere, I reach a point in the preparation process where it all seems like too much work and I wish we were just staying home. It doesn't matter how far we're going, how long we're staying or how much fun we're likely to have. We can be driving 90 minutes to spend the night at my mother's house or flying across the country for a week, and sometime in the last 48 hours before departure, I will still look around at the chaos and think Wah, I don't want to! I thought that at about eight o'clock last night and we're taking a red-eye flight this evening, so things are pretty much running par for the course. At least I'm consistent.