An Airbnb Review ... by my Grandson
I may only be 11 months old but wherever I hang my bib is my home and I get around (yeah, I can write - - didn’t my grandparents tell you that I have already shown signs of genius; they have told everyone else!). That being said, I can be somewhat exacting about my accommodations and if not happy, well, I can get a bit histrionic. I require a comfy crib, high quality highchair, pleasant surroundings and my every id-driven whim immediately satisfied.
When you are this cute, you can make demands.
Naturally, I was not too happy when Mom and Dad put me in the car seat for an interminable trip that was clearly not to hang with my peeps at daycare. And by the way, what’s with this sitting backwards in the car seat anyway - - what am I, a piece of luggage?!
Upon arrival, I was a little concerned. Is this our new home and I was not consulted? Yet, it looked somewhat familiar so I figured we were stepping out for a little vacation with a favorite Airbnb. Therefore, I now feel obligated to provide this review for future visitors (and also am hoping for a good rating of our own as guests, notwithstanding my concerns that Dad is a bit messy and may bring down our numbers).
The hosts seem nice and friendly even though a little long in the tooth. I recognize them as the ones who visit quite often and who I also see on FaceTime most evenings making really lame “oooh” and “aaaah” sounds in excitement about my every move, even if I am just sitting there minding my own business (although gotta admit, they can blow out a mean raspberry sound with very little concern as to how silly they look). Kind of odd that Mom and Dad have gotten so friendly with our Airbnb hosts but maybe it gets us some kind of deal on our stay.
Excuse me, but exactly where did these people learn to child proof?! As Liam Neesom would say, I have a particular set of skills, and they involve being instantly drawn to the most dangerous parts of any room. Gonna have to step up their game if they want us to become regulars.
As for food. High marks. The hosts provided a cutting edge highchair and I was quite happy with the service. I realize that I can be the infant version of Audrey II, the plant from Little Shop of Horrors (“feed me mommy, feed me all night long”), so put a spoon in my mouth or hand and wipe off my face once in a while and I’m yours. Heck, who needs a spoon - - just drop the chow down anywhere in my vicinity and I will take care of the rest in a manner reminiscent of some creature you might see on a Life On Our Planet episode (eat your heart out David Attenborough!). Of course, this army travels on its stomach and Mom brought provisions for the weekend that could last a month, but I have to hand it to the hosts who were impressive at crushing bananas and providing frozen bagels (teething is not for sissies). As for dessert, I was kinda hoping for gummies but … if they keep plying me with this new invention of theirs they call “ice cream,” yeah, I will call them “Nana” or any other ridiculous name they decide upon.
Speaking of food, why is it that my older brother sits on the floor under my highchair waiting for my mistakes (occasionally, on a whim, I let loose and chuck some morsels his way). Well, at least I think he is my brother. He was here when I got here, acts like he owns the place and, lucky boy, he gets to eat from a bowl on the floor. Not sure how old he is since he seems to already need a shave but he talks worse than I do and so I expect he cannot be too bright. I tell him, “Hey kid, you are not going to be a hit with the ladies if you just sit in a corner chewing on someone else’s sock,” but does he listen?
There were many fine activities at this Airbnb. I like to get in my daily 10,000 steps, er, crawls, and there was room to roam, plus enough new toys to put a dent in the hosts’ social security allotment. My greatest fear is of being sent to “the Chair.” No, not that chair, I mean that medieval torture creation they call a stroller. Luckily, my parents did not bring one to the Airbnb because I refuse to be strapped in for a “stroll” - - “Let my People Go!" Being a bit of a drama queen, I make such a fuss that my parents went out and bought a new age giant baby wagon contraption that allows me to stretch out and hang with my toys. It is kind of a toddler version of a Hummer stretch limo. Parents, jeez. I totally own those suckers!
As for diapers, well, I had the hosts right where I wanted them. They acted like they had not done a diaper in 30 years. They really need to work on their fundamentals. Lucky for them there was nothing too serious involved. Enough said.
Sleeping arrangements were more than adequate. The hosts came through with a portable crib and I got to sleep in the same room with Mom and Dad. I am not too crazy about their notion of reading me some fine literature (fine in that it has a nice crunch when munched on) and then just depositing me in the crib and walking away. I complained vociferously to the management but eventually just stretched, yawned and went for some shut eye. I am also now formally lodging a complaint with Airbnb since some sicko set up a Ring doorbell type video and audio link to watch and listen while I sleep. What am I, local wildlife? Afraid I might swipe their Amazon deliveries? Downright creepy if you ask me.
All in all, I am happy to provide a five-star rating for this Airbnb. The hosts are a little weak on basic skills and seem to have lost a few steps from their own parenting days, and truth be told being in their care without my parents would be a little scary, but they do get points for effort and enthusiasm. Rumor has it that they may be headed my way to chip in during my daycare’s December holiday week break. Strange business model that they have - - Airbnb hosts and traveling daycare. Go figure. In any event, they have absolutely no idea what they have gotten themselves into. But a little more of that ice cream for breakfast and maybe I will go easy on them.
Thanks Pete!
5 star rating!! Well done. That kid is a tough customer.