Life in a Nutshell

Stuff My Kid Says - Road Trip Edition

There's a fine line between between an American Road Trip and Mobile Torture Chamber, and my small family walked that balance a few weekends ago. Here's a glimpse into the journey.

Sonny has just turned seven. I can't believe how time has flown and how the small toddler antics have fully morphed into inquisitive, intuitive and perceptive comments and observations.

He's such a bright kid, and turning more and more into someone I could see myself fully appreciating even if we weren't related. Which is a huge compliment to him, and not much to do with me. I can give him the tools he needs in order to be a good person. It's up to him to use them.

Over the recent Labor Day weekend here in the US we decided to take a day trip down to the southern end of our state to visit my dad's side of the family.

For over seventy years that side of my family has had a reunion. I mean a real one.. with meeting minutes being read, the Pledge of allegiance said, lists of births and deaths, notable achievements, a moment of silence for those who have served in the military and those that have recently died. Plus a potluck to end all potlucks and enough beer and ice tea to fill an entire garage fridge. Poker is played, prayers are said and the kids run wild. Some years the hosts hire a local service to offer pony rides to the littles. And one time, the pony showed up with a Unicorn horn and Tutu around it's belly.

It was epic.

The first time I attended one of these, Sonny was only two...and we were all welcomed with open arms, open hearts and enough sugary carbs to choke a cow. It was a beautiful experience, and we've tried to make it down for this event every year since. Always contributing enough food and drink to assist the development of diabetes in over half the attendees.

Sonny had a few firsts this year. One of which is the delightful discovery of small plastic barrels filled with colored fruit punch called "Hugs."

Well it's basically crack for kids....and Sonny had downed three of these little bombs before I knew it...and was running laps around the house with a distant cousin and a gleeful rainbow stain around his mouth.

But I digress. The majority of this story is dedicated to the four hours it took to drive there and return the next day.

Early that morning We filled our Subaru with luggage and pillows and a cooler full of hard boiled eggs, chicken salad, brussels sprout feta salad. Along with non-dairy desserts for Grandma who has several food sensitivities. And we all take off at 7:30 in the morning. What my darling husband (the driver) wasn't anticipating though was the steady line of thunderstorms intersecting with the freeway almost all the way down to our destination.

This does not bode well.

For the first hour everything is quiet and calm. Sonny is knee deep in his tablet games. Grandma is sharing the back seat with him and has her phone volume higher than it should be as she's listening to various news and podcast show sources. Her phone mixes with the kid sounds from Sonny's tablet and it's mildly irritating, but not intolerable. Scott and I are up front navigating the trip on our phones and checking the weather about every fifteen minutes. It's a tense drive, but Scott is a great driver, confident and sure and I trust his skills implicitly.

After the first hour, Sonny starts waxing philosophical, once the Dinos on his tablet lose their sway. He's looking out the windows, elbowing grandma and generally asking way too many questions about eeeevvvvveryyything.

After the twelfth such series of questions...we both have had enough. When the inevitable happens. It's time for some retribution. The storms keep thumping, the wipers are going at top speed, cars are hydroplaning in front of us, and it's too early to stop for yet another coffee.