They are my favorite babies.
I have told The Feral Threesome as much.
They have been instructed not to lay a sticky finger on either of their sisters.
They have been threatened with the removal of all things Dora, Bratz, Monsters High and Hot Wheels if they dare breathe on their superior siblings.
I have made it completely clear that the new babies take pride of place in the budoir with me, and #1Hubby can put his shit somewhere else.
I have vowed to cherish and protect these beautiful darlings above all else.
Except maybe the laptop and coffee machine. But it would be a heart wrenching choice, if it ever came to that.
They don't answer back.
They don't create mess.
They silently follow along behind me.
They carry what I instruct, and they don't drop stuff all over the place.
Anyway enough of my braggy parent routine.
I present to you, with much gloaty pride and jazz hands....my babies
Are they not the prettiest things you've ever seen?
I've never owned a set of matching suitcases.
In my favorite colour, no less.
I've never owned a cabin bag either.
I am filled with chic images of my floating through airport terminals, my dark purple babies gliding along silently and smoothly behind me.
Hair flowing in the non-existent breeze (shampoo TV commercial style).
Stylish outfit to compliment my stylish matching luggage.
George Clooney will be sitting at the Delta Airlines business class lounge bar as I breeze in and heads turn.
Including his.
Who is this sophisticate with the matching luggage in a divine eggplant purple shade? Clearly she is a woman of much class and substance.
Heh.
The only vacant seat will be next to him.
I will shimmy into it.
Well, maybe not shimmy. Whatever is a bit classier than shimmying, I'll do that.
He will be so taken by
Mark it.
This will all happen later this month when I take my first solo trip without #1Hubby (which is probably for the best, as I didn't get him any matching cases, and he'd only be an awkward 3rd wheel in my George Clooney meeting).
To calm my freaked out self about the whole massive trans-Atlantic solo travel thing, I decided pretty luggage was in order.
And a sneaky upgrade to business and first class on all my Delta flights within the US. Because my luggage deserves to be at the pointy end of the plane.
They will be my travel companions in lieu of actual people.
Until I meet up with George, naturally.
If I don't make it all the way to Chicago and BlogHer, then you know I'm on some tropical island with George instead.
George and my 2 favorite children.
