THRILLWAUKEE, PART TWO: And so we rejoin the story with C.J. down for a nap, Michael down for a nap, and Eileen's Marshall's bathing suit looking to spend the weekend in Chicago in its bag...

And let me backtrack for a second to recount how we found Michael this morning. It's 6:00AM, his standard waking time, and we hear a very nonstandard croaking sound coming from his room. Nothing scary, but he sounds a little off. And well he should, since a quick inspection reveals the kid is wearing what is essentially a snot mache mask, with bloody accents all around his nostrils where he's fingernailed his discontent. Just gross. Snotbubbles rising and falling in his nostrils like a lizard's flamboyant throat thrust out in the sunlight, out and in, in and out. Yucky.

And so it's midday now, and our maniac friends and their family are arriving in Milwaukee, and I'm about to make the call that says we're OUT, we won't make it, when...

...C.J. bursts from his room and shouts, "Let's go to the hotel!" He's reborn, animated, cheeks aflush with health and anticipation. "Vamos!"

What the heck. We retrieve a clean-nosed Licky from his bed, he too wearing the glow of rediscovered health, start shoving diapers and sandals and DVDs into my couch-on-wheels, and we head-ass up to Milwaukee.

And it's been worth it. We have a giant suite with an adjoining bedroom. Licky's sprawled out in a pack-and-play next-door, and the other three of us are in here amidst left-over pizza and french fries and Kirkland Shiraz. Our friends and their frenzied progeny have just retired to their own rooms, and we're set for a 7AM rendesvous down at the water-park.

And there's a Starbucks in the lobby!

And C.J. just walked up and said, "Daddy, what planet are we on now?"

I often wonder that very thing. I'm pretty sure it's just called...

Planet Kid.