It’s our last day and I’m sad. I won’t see stars at night for a whole nother year.
We’re doing the waterslides one more time: Baby Slide, Fast Current, Death Defying.
Momma screams the loudest of anyone!
But the day is actually over before we even leave for the airport, because Daddy shakes his head and collects all the, like, pieces of paper and cups and stuff floating down the lazy river with us, and Momma repeats words I don’t understand.
Notsies. Rule of Log. Sybil War.
And of course, like everyone always says, Donald Trump, Donald Trump, Donald Trump.