We’re going on a road trip!
Specifically, we’ll be attending my great-aunt’s 90th birthday party. Which is exciting to my daughter, but not as exciting as the prospect of staying in a hotel with my parents. “Party in the hotel!” she says, not realizing that a) hotel parties are a thing, and b) her idea of a hotel party is nowhere near the usual meaning of that term.
And that’s fine by me. May she never attend a true hotel party. And please, please never let her throw one.
Anyway. There is not enough room in the grandparental vehicle for us all. So we’re taking two cars. R will not be attending said party, and Anya will most likely request to ride with my parents. For the trip up and the trip back, it’s going to be me and Kai.
As Anya would say, party in the car!
Not that she would agree with our musical selections. But that’s okay; they’re not for her.
She’s also asked to sleep in her grandparents’ hotel room. If they’re cool with it, I don’t care. More partay for me and Kai.
Road trips have taken on a different…tone since I became a mother. The very first one we took saw Anya screaming – literally screaming – most of the time we were in the car. Food did not appease her. She would not sleep. She was strapped down, and she didn’t want to be strapped down, and we were all going to pay for her incarceration.
We stopped at a restaurant midway there. She was perfectly happy until it was time to get back into the car. Then the screaming commenced anew.
We haven’t gone on many trips since then. I’m sure you can guess why.
The last trip we took, Anya rode with Mimi and Poppy, and Kai rode in our car. He slept most of the way there and back. I expect this time will be no different.
This might be the most pleasant road trip I’ve taken since I’ve had kids. Almost…a vacation. But don’t tell Anya that. I’m not allowed to enjoy myself without her.