Speaking with my father recently about plans to get together during the summer, meeting up with other family members, staying in a hotel. He’s going to make the reservation, and I had a momentary “twinge” about sharing a hotel room between My Fella, the Micron and I.
When we used to travel as a family if we got a hotel room with only double beds, That Guy would share a bed with Micron and I would share a bed with The Elder on account of the adults being plus-sized people, a double bed would barely fit us.  It seemed innocent enough at the time, but I regret it now, looking back.
So last night I asked my new family if they were comfortable with the three of us sharing a room. My Fella and I would share one bed (I’ve lost a lot of weight in the past few years, and MF is quite slender), and she in a pull-out or cot or another bed.  They’re both cool with it.  This is good. I mean, we’re a lot more concerned about being seen naked by other family members, which seems a shame that the innocence was shattered. But now I guess we’re more like most other North American families, hiding their bodies from each other.
