It was 3a.m., and I think our imploding car of M&M's, empty milk bottles, and four blurry-eyed kids was the last thing the valet expected to see spill out into the Hilton driveway upon opening our car door.
After nearly losing an arm and a toddler through the revolving door, we entered the foyer to face the gold and gaudy, smoky casino.
Ping, ping, ping, ping! I watched Blake (our four-year-old who has recently entered a smoldering love affair with his Nintendo DS) eye the playground as he squealed out, "GAMES!!!" He took off, and we caught him just before security did, but he started doing the ugly cry (which is extra ugly at 3am in a room filled with wrinkled gamblers). This continued until he was distracted by the lovely life-sized poster featuring the in-house XXX show.
"Mommy, did that lady forget to put her clothes on?" Cripes.
Luckily, the third ring of the circus caught his attention, as he watched a woman wearing six-inch heels and a skirt of about the same length pass out on the marble floor next to her giggling group of likewise wasted friends. They all stared at her and squealed with laughter as her poor boyfriend (client?) attempted to pick her up.
"Mommy, that lady must be reeeeally tired."
I'll bet she was. We finally made it to our room and convinced the kids all the cartoons had gone to bed. And as all six of us quickly fell into a cadenced sigh of slumber, Blake called out, "Mommy, I LOVE hotels!"
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