Because it's gray, dark and perishingly cold in Rhode Island, I'm pretending that I live in Santorini. This is the Perivolas resort, set high on a hill just about toppling into the Aegean. I'm heading for a dip in that gleaming pool which I'm sure will not turn my lips purple and make my knees knock like the pool down the road. Moreover, I can just about guarantee those whitewashed walls are repellent of everything child colored (purple spray ink, green tempera paint, blue mouthwash - Junior's stain repertoire of the past 24 hours.) As night approaches and Husband and I stare out to sea looking for Homer's ghost, the children will play quietly in the corner with dominos and sip their ouzo licorice flavored warm milk, after which they fall asleep for fourteen hours.