Son#2, whose tummy ached since yesterday, was up in the night, homesick and be-nightmared.
It's hard keeping young kids quiet in hotel rooms.
But truth be told, we left the house in such a spiffing state, that I felt sad to leave too.
Now we wait until their lordships, the husband and puberty-stricken Son#1, deign to grace us with their presence.
I pilfered the boys' coin purses for the joys of the coffee machine and waffles to keep the barbarians quiet for a minute.
The roads are blocked by angry farmers, and we have to get to Rennes by 6.
Then we'll have to speak a helluvalotof French with our homeswapping family.
Oi vey.
.
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