Going on holiday in the morning.
Packing has been an interesting meeting of the minds.
Ethan started preparing small 30 ml-sized plastic bottles a couple of weeks ago, along with sticky labels for shampoo, shower gel and conditioner. He also ordered two new suitcases and a weight checker.
Ava texted me when I was out last night pleading with me to come home because Ethan wouldn’t let her take her cleanser (not even in cargo luggage) ‘because it was too big’. He is excelling himself in anal retentiveness and old-woman fussing. Initially it drove me mad. But, as time has gone on, I’ve realised there’s no point fighting it. He is who he is. So I’ve let him do his little labelled bottles, his master packing list and his bag weighing and I’ve sneaked in Ava’s cleanser along with some other non-conforming moisturisers and face-washes. Because I’ve realised that, for Ethan, regimenting the packing, making everything neat and uniform, is his way of controlling the uncontrollable. Because, although the holiday is something he’s looking forward to, it’s also something unfamiliar, out of the ordinary, unchartered. And he needs to be able to compartmentalise it into manageable chunks – quite literally.
And, actually, he was right to buy the extra suitcases. We’d never have got everything into the one big and one small one we had.
Perhaps we do make a good team after all.