Our final full day on San Juan Island was exactly what vacations are supposed to be. Relaxing.
Our only official outing was a visit to the local alpaca farm, and I wasn’t prepared for just how adorable those fuzzy little creatures would be. Joni certainly wasn’t either. She cautiously fed a few alpacas before quickly deciding they were among the greatest inventions in the history of mankind.
As if that wasn’t memorable enough, there happened to be a reporter from the Cascadia Daily Newsvisiting the farm to write a feature on San Juan Island attractions. She was immediately drawn to Joni, who was happily feeding alpacas with complete toddler confidence. 
The reporter snapped photo after photo before laughing and telling us that one of them would probably end up on the cover. 
If you happen to be reading the Cascadia Daily News and spot a tiny brunette girl grinning ear to ear while feeding an alpaca…well…we know her. The rest of the day unfolded at exactly the pace we’d hoped for all week. No schedules. No rushing. No frantic loading of children into car seats. Just a peaceful afternoon around the Airbnb soaking in our last few hours on the island. 
That evening Emily and I even managed a proper date night while Vidah stayed behind with the girls. It felt wonderfully normal. We enjoyed a leisurely dinner, great conversation, and a fantastic bottle of wine. No one needed a diaper change. Nobody threw food. No one attempted to climb onto the table. Highly recommend date nights.
What a relaxing day…which, naturally, meant the following day would make up for it.
Checkout was at 11:00 a.m. Our ferry reservation? 4:00 p.m. No problem.
Our brilliantly engineered parenting strategy was simple: clean the Airbnb, pack the SUV, then spend a couple hours driving around the island while both girls peacefully napped in their car seats. They would awaken refreshed just in time for the ferry, and everyone would live happily ever after. The plan was flawless however reality disagreed.
We managed to clean the house, pack everything, and check out on time. Then we set off on our scenic island drive, fully expecting two sleeping children within minutes. Instead, after nearly an hour and a half of driving, Joni managed roughly thirty minutes of sleep before being awakened by her little sister’s passionate objections to napping. So much for Plan A.
We stopped at Downriggers in Friday Harbor for lunch before wandering over to the Whale Museum. While we didn’t find any actual orcas, Joni was perfectly content riding a little whale-shaped seesaw, which in toddler terms is honestly just as exciting. 
Next came one of her favorite vacation traditions: the local library. She wandered from toy to toy with such enthusiasm that the librarians completely fell under her spell. Before we left, they had unofficially enrolled her in the summer reading program just so they could give her a free children’s book. 
Eventually it was time to line up for the ferry. Which meant sitting in the car. With two children. For an hour. Waiting.
If you’ve never experienced this particular form of endurance sport, count yourself fortunate. Once aboard, all of the adults were running on fumes, so Vidah stayed behind in the SUV to catch a well-earned nap while Emily and I took Joni exploring.
She was, once again, the unofficial entertainment for the entire ferry. She toddled nearly every hallway on the ship, waved enthusiastically at strangers, and spent long stretches standing proudly on the bow, staring out over the water with the wind in her hair. Passengers smiled everywhere we went. She was adorable.
But beneath the endless curiosity were the unmistakable signs of a toddler who was hanging on by the tiniest of emotional threads. Every parent knows the look.
They’re still smiling…
…until suddenly they aren’t.
The unraveling began the moment we drove off the ferry. Both girls decided they had reached their absolute limit. The chorus of crying began before we’d even cleared the terminal and continued all the way to Costco.
By the time we arrived, everyone was exhausted, hungry, wearing increasingly questionable diapers, and wondering why traveling with children had ever seemed like a good idea. Fortunately, Costco pizza exists.
Never has a greasy slice of pepperoni tasted so restorative. Miraculously, food solved almost everything. The crying stopped. The adults regained the ability to think. We bought groceries, drove to our next Airbnb near the beach, unloaded what felt like seventeen thousand pounds of luggage, and collapsed into bed. 
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