Thanksgiving 2021, plus 14 Ways to Survive a Hotel with Bored Children

We celebrated Thanksgiving weekend with family in Virginia. When we talked about the things we are most thankful for, relationships with God and family kept recurring, reminding me how richly blessed I am to have an amazing God and so many stellar people in my life. 

Our Thanksgiving weekend included a traditional turkey (shared with an Indian)...

Bird Song has one talented seamstress for 
a grandma.

...and a not-as-traditional Thanksgiving turkey (not shared with an Indian). 

On Saturday, we visited Sea Quest and hand-fed animals like wallabies and iguanas and parakeets. If your children ever want something to do in Lynchburg, look up Sea Quest, a hands-on zoo aquarium. 

We made new friends and visited old ones. 

On the way home from our happy weekend, our van began having internal issues and showed its discomfort by puffing clouds of steam from under the hood. Following the advice of my mechanic-dad, we abandoned the idea of limping home and checked into a hotel at 10:30 pm. In the morning and three garages later, John found a merciful mechanic who squeezed us into his hectic after-the-holiday-Monday. 

Meanwhile, I stayed at the hotel with three children, no paper, and no games except those of my own making. My better boredom buster ideas are posted below in case you ever find yourself in a similar situation. 

1. Eat Breakfast. And take your time about it because when people are eating, they are not dying of boredom, thirst, or starvation, three conditions which can happen simultaneously and on short notice, depending on your age. 

2. Play 'Hide the Dog'. We didn't have a thimble but had an almost-thimble-sized dog. Hide the Dog worked well for seven rounds until the Child Wearing Shoes accidentally stomped on the sore toe of the Child Not Wearing Shoes. A wild holler of pain scared the fun out of the game entirely and had me cringing lest we be reported to the front desk.

3. Watch "The Most Dangerous Ways to School." We followed the journey of four young children in the Himalayas as they walked 100 km on a partially frozen, partially rushing river to get to a boarding school. Incredible. Afterwards, I told my children that if we lived in the Himalayas, they would have to content themselves being sheepherders and farmers because I cannot imagine sending them on a week-long journey that risks their lives.

4. Play word games like, "How many words can you think of pertaining to traveling?" And, "How many words can you think of that rhyme with car?"

5. Move children and luggage to the lobby at check out time. Offers a diversion, even though all of your antics are now public. If I had thought about it before we checked out of our room, I would have left the luggage behind and rode the elevator to the top floor for a good view of the town. 

6. Have your youngest imitate how different animals walk. And walk with his hands on his head. Hands on his knees. Walk backwards. With his eyes shut, but don't...eeks...hit that...lamp! Game over.

7. Do a scavenger hunt. Give them a list of ten things to take pictures of. This was my list, written on the back of a paper in my purse.

 

8. See how much luggage one person can carry (not pull) across the lobby. 

9. Skip a tile when you walk across the foyer. Now two tiles. Now three. And now four. Five? Not happening. 

10. Span the carpet. 

11. Sing Christmas carols. 

12. Nix wrestling. Nix playing on or with the luggage carts. (Trying to avoid eviction.) Nix the older sending the younger alone in the elevator to the sixth floor. 

13. Talk to people who come through the lobby, including the curious who want to know if you are Amish. "Ma'am," she said, "I just want to tell you that your babies are beautiful. The way you dress is so beautiful. Don't you change." My babies missed all she said except that embarrassing word--babies. 

14. Send a group pic to the aunt who asks, "You on the road yet?"

(What an hour and a half of being in a lobby can do to you.)

Somehow, we left the hotel in good humor, a testimony to the truly extraordinary children I have been given.