Muse.

What do I do when the kids don't give me any material?

We took an international trip. Involving franticly navigating a massive traffic jam that led to us running onto the plane about 3 seconds before they closed the door. We sat contained in a small space with very spillable food and drinks for several hours. We swam in an ocean full of hazards like sharks and jellyfish. We watched a dead puffer fish float ashore in all it's sharp, shiny glory, perfectly in between the three year old and her little friend's legs.
We took cab rides without seat belts with barely sober drivers. We swam for hours (and hours) every day. We ate foreign food and drank water that allegedly had been 'treated' but tasted less than fresh. We slept in several different beds on rock hard marble floors - perfect for a concussion.

Nothing. Not one comedic mishap. No completely inappropriate public comments. No effusive bodily functions. Not one.

I find this leaves me with blog block. What good are children when they don't give me blog fodder? What is the point of trekking them around the globe if I don't get a good dinner party story out of them? When did they become so mannered, calm and competent? What fun is a flight if your child doesn't barf all over some poor business man in the aisle seat?
Why spend a day at the beach if you don't get to make a toilet out of a hole and a tiny ziploc bag?
Why explore other cultures if your child doesn't innocently make some hugely personal or offensive comment just as the restaurant falls oddly quiet?

So that's it. I have nothing to amuse you with. No cute but humiliating story that you can relate to.
My children were polite, strong stomached, sensible and safe. They missed every possible opportunity to give me something, anything, to write about here. Even as I gave them every chance.

Maybe I should tell you about dangling 700ft above a canyon on a one inch cable with the Mexican Jack Sparrow chasing me with a camera. Maybe.