Sunshine, sights and more. What a great trip to Florence…until the train ride home. Suffice to say there was crying. A lot.
More like screaming. Right there on the express train to Rome we had a red-faced, body-twisting tantrum, the likes of which seat number 46 has surely never seen. Poor Phoebe was just wiped out. Too tired for pleasant behavior, not even napping.
Feeling bad for the other passengers, including a group of nuns in white habits (surely a patient group but they’ve hardly been there themselves), we relocated to the space between the cars. Here we could read, nurse or cry with a little more comfort privacy. And we weren’t alone. Every few minutes the doors would open and a parent would shuffle through with a child of their own, maybe 4, 5 or 6 years old. Just a walk to escape the restlessness, so apparently it doesn’t get easier. Oh well, we love her anyway. A lot.