Page 18 of From Maybe to Baby

"That's one word for it."

I lean back in my chair, watching through my home office window as the kids build a "practice volcano" in the backyard. It mostly involves throwing dirty up in the air and screaming "BOOM." But they're happy. And filthy.

"How are you feeling about things?” Karen asks.

The vacation whisperer. I get it.

I rub my face. "We were supposed to do the whole family vacation thing together. Their mother and me. Genny would plan it all out—trips, flights, everything. And now..."

"Now you're doing it. And doing a great job, I might add.”

This conversation is getting way too personal. And yet I can’t stop talking to this woman, who I hardly know.

"Yeah." I watch Lukas attempt to throw dirt in his sister’s face. She just laughs. "I keep thinking about the things she's missing. We’re all missing.”

"You're not alone, Jonas. That’s par for the course." She’s typing something —probably adding more caffeine-related amenities to our itinerary. "You’ll have an entire resort staff, trained to support for families like yours."

"You mean for single dad disasters?"

"I was going to say 'parents who deserve a break,' but sure, we can go with that."

On my desk, Genny's planning binder sits next to the plane tickets Karen emailed. Two different versions of family happiness—one carefully planned, one waiting to happen.

"Tell me more about the place,” I say finally, still desperate to believe I’m doing the right thing.

More typing. "The resort has an adults-only pool area, if you can manage to get a break."

I snort. "Right. Because that's likely to happen."

"You never know. They have twenty-four-seven childcare programs. Qualified babysitters available around the clock. And..." she pauses meaningfully, "lots of interesting guests."

Good grief. "Please don’t. You sound like Gloria now."

"I'm just saying, you wouldn't be the first single parent to find some adult conversation by the pool."

"I'm not looking for?—"

"Of course not." She interrupts. "You're just looking for a nice, relaxing family vacation. Nothing else."

"Exactly."

Five minutes later, I’ve got the details of the trip I’ve been pressured into by everyone on the planet. One suite, two weeks, three meal plans (because Lukas insists on both kids' and adult menu access), and more pre-booked activities than we can possibly cram in.

"One last thing," Karen says. "The resort has a social media policy. They ask guests to be mindful of photos and posts for the privacy of everyone there."

"I’m glad to hear that." The last thing I need is more social media attention.

"Perfect. You're all set then. Bon voyage."

Yeah, sure. Whatever.

"What's the worst that could happen?" I mutter, watching the kids transform my backyard into their personal water park as Lukas grabs the garden hose.

Through the window, I hear him shout, "Ready, aim, fire!" followed by Jace's piercing wail—undoubtedly over being the unlucky target.

I glance at Genny's photo on my desk, her smile as knowing as ever. She always had a way of daring me to loosen my grip, even when I swore I couldn’t.

"DAD!" Lukas yells. "Jace got dirt in her mouth!"

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