Nothing says baby-friendly like a 200-square-foot room furnished in glass and teeming with germs. Yet somehow tagging along on Daddy’s business trip seemed less overwhelming than coping with single-parent duty back home. So for the next 72 hours, you and Mommy are livin’ it up, Dylan McKay styles. Despite her best intentions and a club-sized pack of anti-bacterial wipes, Mommy’s germ-busting mission goes belly up when you beat her to the (*shudder*) remote control. At least she manages to successfully cram your perishable food supply into the refrigerated section of the mini-bar, which, if the limp Snickers bar is any indication, is probably set somewhere between room temperature and Calcutta. Mommy can forget about ordering room service and watching HBO while Daddy hits the town with his colleagues. It’s lights out at 7 pm thanks to the two inches separating your crib from the TV. Once you’re finally asleep, Mommy’s options for in-room entertainment are limited to holing up in the bathroom with the hotel magazine or creeping Facebook under her duvet. At least she won’t be lying when she updates her status with “Having an amaZZZing time in NYC.”
DRINK: The Mini Bar Raid. Bypass the petite vodka bottles and go straight for the Veuve Clicquot and the $15 cashews. This one’s on daddy’s expense account.
