It’s a bouncing baby . . . passport stamp.

It occurred to us this morning as Mighty was cramming the last of his stuff into his suitcase that this trip, with all of its special equipment and planning and expense (holy cats, the expense!) was a bit like planning for a baby.

This particular baby was conceived in September. Innocently enough, as far as Big Plans go. It started with an idle “have you ever considered…” that Mighty threw out during a phone call while he was on a business trip in San Francisco. And I, all dreams and no sense, replied “SURE! Let’s do this! Let’s do this right now!”

MCC at the airportSince then we have researched luggage, replaced strollers, rented out our brand new house, put everything that wouldn’t fit into two suitcases into storage, sold one car, picked destinations, bought plane tickets, booked flats in our first four cities (yes four, we weren’t great about updating everyone, but with Mighty leaving early he had to nail down to additional cities for himself so he’ll be seeing Budapest and Barcelona before meeting the Captain and me in Paris), written wills (yes wills . . . this kind of travel is scary! We want to make sure the Captain is taken care of), farmed out our cats and learned how to ask for the loo in as many languages as possible. And that’s the short list!

Yet, somehow, much like having the Captain, it didn’t become REAL real until we were here, at the gate. Literally. As I watched Mighty disappear into the international security line, the wee Captain merrily waving Buh Bye from his stroller, it all came crashing in. We are, in fact, doing this. Who the hell DOES THIS? What kind of nut jobs think this is a good idea?

The kind that love adventure.

Bring it on, baby.

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