Early one morning, four days into our adventure, Young One called us into the other room: "Mom. Dad. We need to have a meeting to discuss how we are going to fit all of this stuff into my suitcase. I'm not leaving any of it."
The pile of crap (excuse my French) is already more than the extra bag I smartly packed inside of Richard's suitcase can handle, and we haven't even seen the Zulu king!
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Too funny! Sounds like you have the beginnings of a diva on your hands. Though who can blame her, I used to pack everthing under the sun until you had to pay for each bag.
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