Simeon Unleashed in Abu Dhabi

Simeon has struggled with bedtime since the day he was born, so naturally, he was up late the night before we left, finally crashing around 12:30 AM. I had to wake him up at 5:30 AM. He fought it. Hard. There was no way he was opening those eyes. He was clearly in the middle of the best sleep of his life and was not having it. He started screaming at the top of his lungs. The whole apartment building must have heard him; Johnny said when he was taking the luggage down to the car, he could already see lights flipping on in other units. I battled with him for a while, trying to calm him down so I could get him dressed and ready to go. He finally gave in at the last possible second, and we made it to the car. Once there, he just sat there, quiet as a mouse. He spent a long time just staring out the window before finally asking for a phone to watch cartoons. He managed to fall asleep about 20 minutes before we hit the airport.

We got to the airport, and I had to wake the poor little guy up again. This time, he actually handled it pretty well. He recharged with an apple pastry while we checked the bags and seemed to be in a good mood. While we were waiting at the gate, I took him to the kids’ play area—which he called “school” because there were other kids there—and he played in a little ice cream truck. His two older brothers eventually joined in.

As soon as we got to our gate, he suddenly bolted, ducked under the barriers, and had the entire airline staff scrambling to catch him. It was like that scene from Home Alone where Kevin runs out of the store without paying for the toothbrush. He was sprinting at full speed, weaving and dodging, while these clumsy adults tried to keep up.

Like a seasoned traveler, he found his seat on the plane and buckled himself in right away. During the flight, I kept him topped up with crackers and various snacks I’d brought along, so his blood sugar stayed steady and he didn’t have any meltdowns. Of course, he watched cartoons on the phone too. He only slept about an hour of the six-hour flight.

When we landed, he was surprisingly alert despite being seriously sleep-deprived. He ran straight for the baggage carousel and then tried to climb into the opening where the suitcases come out.

In the car ride to our accommodation, he started getting cranky—he’d clearly had enough of traveling—but I managed to keep him quiet with more cartoons on the phone.

Once we finally arrived and got settled that night, he still felt the need to go wild. He kept trying to find a “better” place to sit since the kitchen only had a tiny table with two chairs. He ended up running around the apartment with a plate holding his burger, which, of course, he dropped and shattered. Then he spotted a locked cabinet in the kitchen with one of those small, standard padlocks. It was where they kept the cleaning supplies. It drove him crazy. He just had to know the secret hidden in that cabinet. With one quick yank of his tiny hands, the lock was ripped right off.

The next day, I had to be the “bad guy” again and wake him up so we could stick to our schedule. He didn’t complain much. I put him in the carrier so he could keep resting while we moved.

The moment we stepped out of the taxi at the aquarium, he just wanted to run. Can’t blame him after being cooped up for so long. In the elevator on the way to the breakfast buffet, he pressed every single button. Once we were out, he spent his time chasing birds along the waterfront, absolutely loving the way they scattered to get away from him. Inside the aquarium, he was like a whirlwind. He wanted to see everything, touch everything, and—ideally—break everything. He sprinted from one tank to the next, tapping on the glass to get the fish’s attention, and kept trying to slip through staff-only doors. I was constantly chasing him down just as he’d start rattling a doorknob. He tried to figure out how to work a massage chair without paying. He almost tore down a metal railing designed to keep kids from falling into the water. A total hurricane. Just a blur of energy destroying everything in its path. The only time he stopped was in the kids’ zone, where there were screens with interactive games. Then I couldn’t get him to leave. In the area where you could look at insect samples under a microscope, he almost took the whole microscope apart. When we got off the boat tour, he suddenly took off in the wrong direction—life jacket and all—and the Filipino staff literally had to use their bodies as a human shield to stop him from running into a restricted area.

I didn’t take him into the mosque because you’re supposed to be quiet and respectful—two things Simeon definitely isn’t—so I stayed behind in the shopping area. He fell asleep in the carrier, so we just waited for the rest of the family in a quiet spot. If I’d known he was going to pass out like that, I could have actually seen the mosque myself. Oh well, I guess I missed out.

When the guys got back, we sat down in the food court together. Simeon went wild again. He started rearranging all the tables and chairs. Suddenly, he’d bolt and try to sit down with a complete stranger or grab someone’s bag. I was constantly lunging after him, trying to keep him in check, but the kid is a loose cannon. Everything he does is completely unexpected and happens in a split second.

At teamLab Phenomena, he was absolutely mesmerized. He was fascinated by everything. There were so many stimuli hitting him at once; he didn’t know what to look at or touch first. For Johnny and me, it was an intense and mentally exhausting experience. It was dark, crowded, and full of little nooks where Simeon could hide. One second he was there, the next he was gone. He made a beeline for every section the staff explicitly told us not to enter. Johnny and I were constantly asking each other, “Do you see him?” Meanwhile, he was having the time of his life, totally hyped up by the whole place.

He was wearing long pants that were a bit loose on him, and if they aren’t tied tight at the waist, they tend to slide down. At the restaurant where we had dinner, he started getting bored while we were eating and wandered away from the table. Suddenly, the waiters started laughing, and Johnny yelled that Simeon was “bare-bottomed.” He’d untied his drawstring and pulled off his pants because they were getting in the way of his “freedom of movement.” As it happened, he wasn’t even wearing underwear because he’d gotten them wet earlier at an attraction with water features. I scrambled to grab him while he happily sprinted away from me, his little “toddler pride” swinging in the breeze.

For the entire evening walk through the crowded streets, I kept him in the carrier, basically using my own body as a shield. He was calm then, not at all bothered by the street-side chaos.

During the endless wait for a taxi late that night, he again reached his limit. He was running around on the grass, hiding behind bushes, and just being a goofball. Then, out of nowhere, he pulled out his “little guy” and just started peeing right there in public. The passersby found it hilarious.

He fell asleep in the car on the way back. I had a real dilemma: should I just let him sleep or wake him up for a bath? But since he’d been sprayed with foam and had rolled around in the grass, I couldn’t just leave him like that. He was livid when I woke him. He had a meltdown that lasted at least half an hour. He was screaming and basically trying to kick me out onto the street. Luckily, with some kind words and a lot of patience, I finally managed to calm him down.

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