Page 8 of From Maybe to Baby

Oh God no. I'm seeing Philippe now. Gerard got clingy—wanted me to meet his children.

Like mother, like daughter.

Point is, sometimes the best stories come from the places we least want to go. Just... keep an open mind?

My mind is as open as it's going to get while maintaining my brand integrity.

Honey, you're about to review kiddie pools and volcano-themed hotels. I think brand integrity is already out the window.

In 3B, Divorced Dad is pretending not to be reading over my shoulder. Amateur hour.

Gotta go, Mom. My seatmate is either flexing or having a seizure, and I should probably figure out which before we land.

Have fun in paradise. Try not to traumatize too many small children.

No promises. Love you.

Love you too.

As soon as I’m done with Mom, 3B jumps into the aisle, managing to drop the bag he’s wrestling out of the overhead bin, nearly taking out a flight attendant. As she helps him recover both the bag and his dignity, I catch her sympathetic glance in my direction.

"Two more hours," she whispers as she leans into my row. "Want me to spill a drink on him? Accidentally, of course."

I slide her my card. "Follow @MintyfreshAdventures and we'll call it even," I say.

Sometimes the best travel content comes from spite. And speaking of content, I open Instagram to update my story:

Pro travel tip: Never trust a man who removes his wedding ring for a business trip. But DO trust a flight attendant who offers to spill drinkson him. #SingleLifeLessons #DontNeedSaving #ChillingWhileChild-Free

Only two more hours until I have to start being family-friendly. Problem is, I’m not sure I know how.

The universe,I decide as my cab pulls up to the Hale Olu’olu Resort & Spa, has a twisted sense of humor.

"Welcome to paradise." A bellman bounds—literally bounds—toward my cab with the enthusiasm of someone who's either new to customer service or heavily medicated. His name tag reads 'Kai' and features a sparkly dolphin sticker. Because of course it does.

The resort's entrance is a masterclass in sensory overload. A massive sign proclaimsWhere Family Dreams Come Truein a font that can only be described as aggressively whimsical. Palm trees are lit with twinkling lights despite it being broad daylight. And then there’s the water feature, a lumpy faux volcano, which might actually be cool if it weren't surrounded by plastic animals wearing leis.

"First time at Hale Olu’olu?" Kai asks, reaching for my luggage. My expensive, definitely-not-meant-for-sticky-fingers luggage.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Well, most guests don't wear shoes like yours here." He eyes my open-toe stilettos with a mix of admiration and concern. "And you might want to duck."

"Duck? Why would I need to?—"

SPLAT.

Something wet and rubbery smacks the side of my head and explodes. I reach up slowly, dramatically, like a villain in a B-movie, and peel off... a water balloon.

"TOMMY." A woman in a “Boy Mom” T-shirt rushes over, horror written all over her spray-tanned face. "We throw at TARGETS, not PEOPLE. Now apologize to the nice lady."

I turn, water dripping, to find a kid staring at me with a mixture of terror and... is that triumph?

"So sorry." Boy Mom chirps, grabbing her tiny terrorist's arm. "He's usually much better at following rules."

"Five cupcakes says he's not," I mutter.

I'm contemplating how many martinis it'll take to survive two weeks of this when I hear the fatal words, "My ICE CREAM..."

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