It's always interesting to get the adult reversal of one's long time kid-only perspective on certain family outings. Car trips, for instance. Is there anything more frustrating to a kid than long hours strapped in a car seat next to a sibling competing for toys and entertainment while the adults make dismissive remarks such as, "Well, just look out the window and enjoy the scenery", or "Why don't you see how many different license plates you can count?" I think wardens have also suggested the same thing to prisoners whose single-windowed cells overlook a highway. Even prisoners get some exercise time and TV access.
And yet, as an adult, the concerns of kids seem petty. You think, "Ah, cruising through the farms of Pennsylvania: everyone should love this!" and when they don't you say dismissively, "Well, just look out the window and enjoy the scenery," or "Why don't you see how many different license plates you can count?" If Nate suggested I count different state license plates under any kind of circumstance, you'd bet I'd clobber him.
The other problem: food access. The adults have it. Before we left, I bought up some little packets of crackers and cookies for the kids to eat during the long hours in the car. I made the mistake of calling them, "snacky packs" to Thomas. Now Thomas has two particular interests at this stage of his young life: food and entertainment. He is always in pursuit of one or the other or, most often, both. I am his mother. I am the food and entertainment gatekeeper. Most of our conversations during the day go like this:
Thomas: "Mommy, can I (eat X/play Y)?"
Me: "Not right now it's (time for school/time for bed/right after you just ate/the middle of the night/etc.)"
At least during the day Thomas can run off between food requests and do something else. In the car, Thomas was strapped in directly behind me. We could not escape from each other. Round trip through PA Dutch country and Gettysburg was about eight hours in the car total. At least seven of those hours were taken up by Thomas asking, "Mommy, can I have a snacky pack?" Sometimes he would ask if he could have one while he was still eating the last one. So he would say, "Muffle mumble scarf snacky pack?"
Even worse, the more often he asked for them and the less often he got them, the more the term "snacky pack" began to take on a certain nasally whine, the kind of which makes dogs howl and parents go blind.
Thomas on the use and pronunciation of the term "snacky pack"
Nate as designated Dad driver--you know the kind: doesn't turn around and doesn't stop for anything less than imminent bladder expulsions--began to truly loathe the snacky pack. He hated when Thomas whined for one and he hated me even more for having introduced the term. As the trip progressed, his right eye started to twitch. His muscles began to tighten. About an hour outside Philadelphia right after we had actually stopped to feed the children real food (well, service station food which counts as real only so much as it is being compared to snacky pack nutrition), Thomas made the mistake of asking for a "snacky pack" one too many times.
Nate roared, "If I hear the term snacky pack one more $#&@*! time, I will throw every single one of them out this window!"
I started to cry--cry with laughter, that is. I was rolling around the seat absolutely hysterical. Nate started half-smiling/half-grimacing and pinched my arm repeatedly in revenge. Thomas was looking between us, semi-hopeful that 1) perhaps he wasn't in trouble and 2) he might actually get a snacky pack.
In the end, the snacky packs did not meet hot pavement and Thomas learned how to ask, "May I have a snack, please?" in a far less whiny manner. I ended up with only a little arm bruise.
And we have, hopefully, learned our lesson: no more cute food monikers during car trips.
Next up: Live Like the Amish....Until You Get Tired of it
4 comments:
Good job going on a family trip. You are a trooper. It made me laugh to read this. Tell Thomas Roscoe and Sarah say hi! We miss you.
Melanie
Too Funny! Having made the drive to Utah with the kids more times than I can count - okay I could count them because I CAN count that high - I just don't WANT to figure it out - I know what you are talking about.
Long ago - before all 4 were out of diapers or recently potty trained - it would take us 9 hours to get to Utah. Now we can do it in 7, YIPPEE!
Funny how things can be cute at home where there is space to roam and it suddenly gets annoying when trapped in a vehicle. We have many odd phrases in our home and if Andy uses them on the drive to Utah I just want to reach over and slug him. I have to stop myself because how is he supposed to know that I am exactly THAT tired/frustrated/about-to-break.
I hope you enjoyed the trip - I am guessing we will find out more about it in the next blog entry. We did Lancaster with Nate's parents many, many years ago when we were living in PA - did you go through Intercourse, PA?
Love ya all
Kristi
Kristi--the requisite "Intercourse" jokes are coming, of course. :) I'm so impressed with you guys car-tripping to Utah with all four young'ins. Yikes. My two alone in a confined space for a long ride are sometimes enough to make me want to pull my eyeballs out and stuff them in my ears. Then again, as a kid, I recall wanting to box my parents in the head every time they suggested a new "car game" to keep us occupied.
I'm curious how your old Lancaster trip went. What did you see/do?
How British - I guess you can compare "Lancaster" with "Worchestershire", which of course is pronounced "Wurshter". Or something like that.
And wow, there is something about that whine that gets to you. My nieces have both had that exact inflection with something cutesy (sometimes it's Aunt Anali they butcher..Aunt Ah-uh-eee, leaving out the consonants, which I am helpless to retaliate because my nieces are Ruth and Esther. Just doesn't work...anyhoo), and I usually have to work hard after a while to maintain my patience. Thank goodness I'm not their parent!
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