So I decided, last night, that I should take a 3 hour car trip with 2 children by myself. Because.
Not just because it would be spontanteous and I miss my relatives and friends dreadfully, but because it was my son's spring break. And last night, around eight, I realized that I could either :
a.) keep us all home and pretend I would accomplish something with two bored kids or
b.) pack quickly.
My dear husband was trapped by work obligations, so I sallied forth alone this morning, armed only with a cup of coffee and a Veggie Tales 'Bob & Larry Sing the 80s' CD. And we survived with only a little scarring:
Spiderman: "Mom? Today is Palm Sunday!"
Me: "You're right! Well done, calendar-obsessed son!"
Spiderman: "So... I guess... Palm Sunday means we don't go to church?"
Me: "No. That is not how the church calendar works at all. It means that you're mother is a heathen..."
Ah, Cary. Magical land of more-doctorates-per-capita-than-anywhere-in-the-nation, happy place where weeds are banished, glorious home of Hodges. (We are the satellite clan). I'm always so glad to see its pleasant hills of brick shopping centers and palatial subdivisions.
I spent the afternoon baking in the sun while watching a baseball game with a dear friend. We ate quinoa and discussed education policy and both my kids were off with grandparents, so it was basically the best vacation ever.
And there was a marvelous party on the first night in town, so Spiderman opted to ride with Grandpa and Uncle Wombat (your read that correctly), and Auntie 'Becca rode with the Princess and me. While we were wrestling - I mean, helping the little girl into her car seat, the Princess cried out, "I need water!"
"What, now?" I replied gently. "Not while we're sitting at Grandma's table, but now that we are in the car?"
"I need water!" she said.
"You can have water at the church," Auntie 'Becca pointed out much more gently than Mommy. "It's all right. We'll have water in a minute."
"I need-da-water-bottle!" Princess insisted.
"Oh, my purple bottle," I sighed, backing out of the world's most frustrating driveway (Steepest downhill grade ever allowed by a drunken civil engineer). "Honey, there's no water in there."
"But I thirsty," my offspring insisted.
"It's empty," patient Auntie reminded her.
"I need it! I thirsty!"
"Here!" I cried, (very calmly and sweetly), handing the bottle to the outstretched fingers. "You can hold it. We're almost there-"
"I need it."
"Here! Keep it together!"
Silence, as the bottle was accepted in triumph. Then, "I can't open."
Pause at stop light. "It doesn't matter, it's empty," I said.
"But I can't open!"
"There isn't any water in it."
"I need it open."
"We're almost to the church."
"But I need it!"
"Here," gracious Auntie 'Becca said. "I'll open it. But remember, it's empty."
"I got it! Is open!" Princess chuckled in glee.
Green light. So close to the church --
"IS EMPTY!" wailed Princess.
I didn't actually bury my face in my hands, but only because I was driving. I guess she will be one of those people who must test and approve everything. I sigh, knowing that she will have to figure out everything for herself.
What fun will the teenage years hold, I wonder?
