Well, at least it's still beautiful. Seems that Prague has been discovered by the world because it's now crawling with tourists and the prices made us say "daaaamnnn." And for some reason a lot of the women dress like hookers. We're not sure what that's all about.
We rented a pretty apartment right below the castle. The apartment and location were perfect -- only problem was you needed your key not just to get IN the building but also OUT of the building. You had to unlock your way out. It was an odd arrangement, made worse by only having one key.
I flipped out the first time I realized I was a prisoner in Pretty Prague Apartment. Coco was napping and Alex and Lucien were off on a tacky tiny choo-choo tour. I was admiring the pretty decorative iron grates on all our windows when it hit me -- with no key to open the heavy front barn door and iron bars on the windows, I had no way out. It was an uncomfortable feeling.
Alex came back to find me feverishly attempting to saw through an iron grate with a nail file. He asked why I was wild-eyed, sweaty, and muttering "Mama likey the freedom." After that we decided the parent who stayed behind with the child kept the key, to avoid further mental collapse.
This is the building next to our apartment --
Every time we passed this building, Lucien pointed up at the lady sculpture and said, "I want to touch her boobies." When we asked how he planned to do that since she was up pretty high, he had an elaborate plan involving breaking into the building, climbing out the window and shimmying across to boobietown.
Somehow he knows, at just five-and-a-half years old, it's important to do everything in one's power to touch a boob. Ooh boy, he's gonna be a fun one to raise.
There's some surprising public art in Prague. Like this --
The city energized us. It showed us beautiful things and fed us great food. It's a good, good city. If you've been to Prague and didn't like it, you should go back because you did it wrong.
(Alex stretches a lot, like every five minutes. Sometimes we look weird) --
The people of Prague were friendly enough, but there was an air of sadness about them. We didn't understand the basis of their sadness until we ran out of baby wipes and bought some at the local store. Then we at least understood why the babies are sad; it's because they get their butts wiped with wet pieces of sandpaper.
Good times were had at the big park across the river from Prague's old town --
We call this one "Rage on the See-Saw"
Even though the playground had a sweeping view of the city, we frowned a bit and agreed the park could use some maintenance. Paris's meticulous park landscaping is turning us into insufferable park snobs.
Alex badgered Lucien into logrolling down a hill full of flowers and assorted plants. Lucien hesitated but eventually caved and assumed logroll position. He didn't roll more than a few feet before he started screaming in agony. He stood up with a bright red arm that soon turned into a blistery rash. Witnesses watched with horror and scorn on their faces as we stared at the rash and Lucien yelled, "You made me do it! You made me do it!"
Hey lookie loos, we may roll our babies into poison but at least we don't wipe their butts with Brillo pads.
The rash faded within an hour. No big deal, but next time Lucien hesitates when his Dad suggests a "fun" idea, he should probably trust his instincts.
We were sad to leave Prague, sad to end our vacation. Vomiting episodes aside (as lovingly detailed in Part 1 and Part 3), this was our best trip yet.
The flight home would have been uneventful if Coco hadn't pulled the same crap with the seat belt. The second she lost her freedom to the seat belt, the yelling began. Then other kids started yelling. And while Coco did not yell the longest or the loudest, we like to think she's the one who got the ball rolling.
Photo album closed. Next time back in Paris, baby.
But really....why was everyone dressed like a hooker?
give it a rest about the rash, already, kid, you can't even see it anymore.