All’s well even when it doesn’t end that way

Sunshine, sights and more. What a great trip to Florence…until the train ride home. Suffice to say there was crying. A lot.

train station

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.

riding, reading and cryingFeeling 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.

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1 Comment

Filed under Trips

One response to “All’s well even when it doesn’t end that way

  1. Marie

    Oh, I feel for you. After a wonderful day in NYC Lex decided he did not want to be on the train home. We too camped out between cars. We became those people that other people switch cars to avoid. Then we got off and the crying magically stopped. A very long 45 minutes of my life.

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