Many a special memory is born on long road trips with the
family, though some of those ‘memories’ a guy might just as soon forget.
For my family, summer usually means at least a few journeys
down the highway, be it camping trips or visits to the family farms.
My wife, Amanda, has become an expert on packing
the essentials for keeping our two young boys occupied during long hours restricted
to the confines of their car seats.
The checklist for a four-plus hour trip includes:
- Goldfish crackers
- Baggies of Cheerios
- Sippy cups
- Minimum five small toys per boy
- Blankies
- iPad or iPhone loaded with movies and simple
games
- Diapers
- Diaper wipes (lots)
- TimBits
- CD of annoying kids songs
The first hour is usually peaceful enough. The boys chatter
back and forth and ask questions about cows, horses, tractors and whatever else
they might see out the window. If we’re lucky, they’ll fall asleep for an hour,
giving Mom and Dad a rare opportunity for uninterrupted conversation.
By Hour Two, they’re getting fidgety. With the threat of
tantrums looming, Amanda doles out snacks, which buys precious minutes of peace
and quiet.
When the snacks are done, electronic gadgets entertain them
for another half hour or so. After that, it’s probably time for a pee break and
a roadside diaper change. While Amanda does the dirty work, it’s usually my job
to take the older one around to the side of the truck and wait while he tries
to draw pee designs on the tire. If he finishes without getting any urine on
himself, or me, it’s considered a successful pit stop.
Once back on the road, it’s time for the annoying kid music,
featuring a choir of pitchy adolescents belting out timeless classics like, Wheels on the Bus, Bill Grogan’s Goat, and The
Ants Go Marching.
At Hour 4, all hell breaks looks. The one-year-old begins
grunting loudly while straining against his harness, as if he’s about to
transform into the Incredible Hulk. The older one begins whining in a nasally
tone that all dads know about – that awful noise that seems specifically
designed to push a man’s patience to the breaking point.
It’s around this time that Amanda starts watching me
nervously, as if she fears I might just black out from an inability to cope
with the hellish cacophony of Mary Had A
Little Lamb competing with the two screeching banshees directly behind me.
When we finally arrive at our destination, everybody springs
from the car, which now reeks of fast food and soiled diapers. The kids, freed
from their restraints, instantly transform from angry monsters into giddy
little kittens, skipping around giggling crazily.
I climb from the drivers sear, stretch my legs, savour the
fresh air – and begin preparing myself for the long drive home.
Leo Paré is a former
Advocate editor. Email him at newsdeadline@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter at
twitter.com/LeoPare
No comments:
Post a Comment