A solo road trip with young kids can be a scary proposition. Not a lot of upside – if they’re good and quiet, it’s still not enjoyable because you ride with the anxiety that the mood will turn any moment. Now the downside, however, is pretty significant. There is not much worse that being stuck in a car with a screaming baby or toddler, by yourself, when they are flipping out and there is nothing (short of pulling over) that you can do to stop it. You’ll try anything – sing, make funny noises, turn on the music, turn it up, turn it up even louder – anything to make them stop (or drown out the noise). To sum it up, it can be pretty miserable.
Now I’m happy to report that my two-hour mini road trip with the boys tonight was, all things considered, pretty laidback. I think we may have hit a smooth patch with Beckett where he is less prone to freak out, and I am oh so thankful (knock on wood – we still have a return trip on Sunday). The new phenomenon in my vehicle is that my three-year-old has become a backseat driver. First of all, little smarty-pants has a pretty good memory, especially when it comes to roads and scenery. I was told numerous times, “Mommy, you’re going the wrooong way!” “Mommy, you have to turn left!” or “Mommy, that was a yellow light!” [insert condescending tone]. When we were on the interstate, and apparently he was satisfied that we were heading in the right direction, he decided to inquire about the road signs. I’m talking for a 10-mile stretch he asked what every road sign said, and heading out of Atlanta, that’s a lot of signs. “What’s that one say?” “What’s that arrow mean?” I tried really hard to respond to each. Now granted, I condensed the sign to two or three words, but dang it, I gave him an answer! Once this too passed, we settled into some music, which is great, until Brogan only wanted to hear one song over and over and over again. We must have heard Luke Bryan’s “That’s My Kind of Night” 42 times. No lie. When I suggested another song (or just went to another song), I was met with “Noooo!!! I want ‘my kind of night!’ Please mommy, please!” in an excitable tone that was hingingon freak-out if I didn’t comply. And being that I was really trying to avoid a car scene similar to what I described in my first paragraph, I obliged. All in all, not a bad ride. Sure, I’ll be burnt out on that song sooner than I’d like (it really is a goodsong), but the boys were happy, my blood pressure remained steady, and we all made it safe and sound. A great way to start the weekend.