The Great Vacation Migration
THE CHRONICLES
Dear Chronicle,
There are certain things humans do that I will never understand.
Apparently, when they need to rest, they pack up their belongings and just go somewhere else.
I don't get that.
Why don't they just lie down?
But no.
It starts with a suitcase.
Then another suitcase appears.
Then someone remembers something they forgot, so a bag appears. Before long, half the house is sitting by the front door.
This is exactly what happened last week.
I watched Mom and Dad pack clothes, shoes, books and who-knows-what-else.
Giggle Sprout watched too. He shook his head.
“Uh oh,” he said. “Now you've done it.”
I looked at him. “Done what?”
“They're running away,” he said.
I looked at all the bags.
I couldn't really argue with him.
But then Mom started packing my things.
Obviously, the cabbage-head had been wrong.
I was going too.
It was when I saw the flip-flops and my Orange Vest of Honour that
I knew exactly what was happening:
This was The Great Vacation Migration.
Once all the packing was done, we all climbed in the car and, well, migrated.
After a very long drive, we arrived at something called The Ocean.
I liked The Ocean immediately.
There were smells everywhere, things to investigate, and something called The Waves.
The Waves were very entertaining.
I spent many happy days chasing them.
They'd come rushing in.
I'd chase them away.
Then they'd come rushing back.
Quite frankly, after several days of these shenanigans, I thought I had found friends for life.
But then Mom brought out the suitcases.
I knew this was bad. So did the Vegetable.
“Oh no,” said Giggle Sprout.
For once, we agreed.
Of course, when we got home, they had to unpack again.
But this time, they did it with remarkable enthusiasm.
“Ahhh. Home sweet home!” they sighed.
I looked at them. Unbelievable.
Why leave in the first place?
I’d had enough of this vacation business.
I went to my bed, curled up, and slept for three whole days.
Now that’s what I call resting.
And I dreamed of The Waves...
