I know we didn’t hop on a plane, but at 8 months, we decided to take our first vacation with the little one. It was a short 2 hour drive up north to the West Coast of Florida where we basked in the sun’s rays for a weekend in Marco Island. We met up with family and had a really good time. I was dreading a possible disaster, since you tend to hear a lot of horror stories about traveling with a baby, but things were relatively uneventful.
We had to change some of our usual beach habits: getting used to the fact that we will not be able to complete a nice cold adult beverage in one sitting (mine would become warm and need multiple ice refills due to it just sitting there for sometimes hours untouched), one of us having to head back to the hotel room to put her to sleep if she was resistant on falling asleep on the beach (aka; every time), and sand eating. So much sand eating.
