A few years ago we were set to go on a Mexican cruise with my parents at New Year’s. That year at Christmas, grandma presented my entire family identical gifts to open simultaneously. As we opened them grandma told us the story of how her friend had gone on a cruise and that all of the people in the dining room wore fancy bibs when they ate. We finished opening the boxes to find we each had received our very own, custom made, formal bib. And by bib, I mean BIB. But a FORMAL bib.
Now, I hadn’t been on a cruise in years, but I was fairly certain that whoever gave my mom this information must be in the early stages of dementia. My youngest son instantly had panic in his eyes, my middle son was gritting his teeth, and my daughter seemed completely baffled.
I tried to explain to my mom that I thought she had gotten bad intel, but my argument fell of deaf ears. We went home trying to figure out a way to “accidentally” forget to pack the bibs, but grandma had spent so much time and money having these beauties custom made, I didn’t have the heart to not bring them. Plus, she’d kill me.
We hatched a plan. If we couldn’t avoid the bibs, we’d embrace them. We would gloriously flaunt them on all legs of our trip. We even named them “Bibby”, a collective name for all of them.
It started at the customs desk as we checked in for our Mexican cruise.
And immediately continued at the life boat drill before we left port.
We encouraged others to pose wearing them.
Bibby even joined us for activities.
We even found some unusual new friends for Bibby.
Plus he got to go to some great places.
And ultimately, Grandma and Grandpa enjoyed the fun.
There were other adventures to follow, but we’ll never forget our original introduction to Bibby.