The hunt for the limited edition purple gelato is underway! Code name Operation Big Bay.
The Italian Job was always a bit of an oxymoron. More like two hour Milano power lunch followed by siesta time.
Stocking up on totally impractical #myfirstinstagram gear for Baby J00ster. She needs to look her best for the 14 blog posts she'll feature in before her first birthday.
The celebrity baby whispers dodge the paparazzi on international assignment. Milano is the kind of place Ryan pulls out his middle name. It fits right in on the guest list for Clooney's garden soirée.
Grandma, did you see any hokey pokey gelato?
I'm going to hazard a guess that all that minimalist use of negative space isn't for stroller parking.
Grandma, Italian kids stay up late and get a Vespa for their 14th birthday.
How do you say Hamptons in Italian? Why Lake Como of course. All aboard the Clooney Express.
Forget Clooney's lakefront mansion, it's got nothing on this sweet converted carriage house. Why this room is so big in Manhattan it would have a 57th and 58th street address!
Look hard enough and you can see the future son. Oh my goodness you're right Daddy, it told me I'm going to have three gelatos today!
Looks like the kind of luggage you put on a steamship and pick up three months later in some exotic locale. So basically the same process as checking a bag with United.
Nothing says hip like a vintage letterbox and typewriter. The latter is pretty much the same experience that readers of this blog get to enjoy, you know, handcrafted wit thoughtfully curated one carriage return at a time.
Daddy, I'm getting into this whole analog thing, no Google Maps for me. Although I do notice this piece of parchment doesn't play Paw Patrol on demand, which is like, you know, lame.
They said Lake Como was a celebrity magnet. Here's proof.
That's the kind of understated sophistication that got you a coveted invite to Amal's lakeside luncheon.
Are you sure we're headed the right way? I don't recall Amal mentioning any public transport options for arrival?
Look Grandma, a Unesco World Heritage-listed gelato. Come on, it's history, it's like, educational.
From this Kid Free Lookout you can gaze down upon a life unobstructed by Lego wastelands and derailed Thomas trains.
Mommy, these Europeans really do know how to start their day. Well son, I reckon they know how to finish their day too, with a bottle or two of wine and a cheese plate. And now that you mention it that middle stretch where they knock back an espresso and take a two hour nap is pretty darn good too.
The fast boat to Bellagio, and we're not talking the one with the big fountain and all you can eat buffet.
Daddy, where's the neon water fountain and Pavarotti soundtrack?
All European countries are kid friendly, but Italy might just go to number one. Where else would you set aside a plot of prime lakeside real estate for a playground? Why in NY they'd build a 40 story condo and if you're lucky maybe cram a playroom in the basement.
Daddy, what's my hashtag? #spoiled?
The only way to travel, in a private boat that looks suspiciously like the one Indiana Jones chopped to pieces in the propeller of a cargo ship off Venice.
Arrivederci losers!
Sorry folks, off my boat, I've got famous people to pick up now.
Daddy, I think I see the Go Dogs, Go tree! Can we climb up to the Dog Party?
Hmm, looks like we'll be taking the slow ferry home.
Someone spent an inordinate about of time sculpting these trees. That's the kind of quality of life enhancements Mrs. Merkel's productivity stats will never capture.
Mommy, are you trying to weasel your way into some photographic evidence that you actually carry me?
Daddy, why are there other people on this boat? Where did it all go wrong?
Another lakeside playground? This is indeed a country with its priorities straight.
Ciao Italy, glad you rolled out a double-decker, you're going to need it airlift out a week worth of gelato eating.
Mile high babysitting club.
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