Butterfingers, statues, and a waterpark

Tonight G leaves for the funeral trip to England.
This morning I received two cryptic messages from the UK.
One just read: G, could you please bring a Butterfinger when you come?
I assume they mean the candy bar.

The other was a rambly description of how to get off one plane and board another in Amsterdam. "go to the left of the big statue that looks like two rag dolls. If you go to the right you will go through customs. you go through customs in Manchester, not Amsterdam. you might miss your plane. to the left is a shop with magazines. go that way..."

My husband is a very competent person, but for some reason I can imagine him forgetting his visa, his ipod or carry-on on the plane. i have a mental list of Dos and Don'ts as if he were 6 and not 36. Restraining myself so far. But now I have to pass on this list of instructions that includes candy bars and navigating large statues.

Tomorrow we're going to a festival in my sister's town with the kids. Rides, cotton candy, dirty farm animals in the "petting zoo" that no amount of Purell will make me feel good about.

Just remembered this morning that S also has a birthday party to attend at an indoor water park an hour away. Other family members were invited to stay for the 4 hours span for a discounted price. I turned this down initially before funeral plans were made. Now I realize little E and I will have to drive the hour back home to wait around before driving back down to pick her up. Damn. But I don't really want to be in my swim suit around all the school moms. Not for 4 hours. Shite.

I need to get the kids up. I need to shower. We need to be out the door in 45 minutes.