Yesterday we made a simple car trip from Columbus up to Marietta to have dinner with Rob’s grandparents before heading up to Rob’s parents house in Toccoa while the boys caught the first hours of their nighttime sleep. The first leg of the trip up to Marietta took over three hours instead of the expected two because as we encountered delays in domino-effect.
First after about five minutes on the road I made the mistake of mentioning to Will to remember to give us some forewarning if he needed to pee so we’d have time to find a proper place for him to relieve himself.
“I need to pee!” he announced immediately after I’d issued the reminder.
So we pulled off at the next exit, which featured no gas stations or restrooms, and let him pee in the grass beside the off ramp. All he could produce was a one-second-long trickle. Rob and I rolled our eyes at each other as the cars whizzed by.
About a minute later, back on the interstate, Will made a new proclamation: “I need to poop!”
“Are you sure?” Rob asked, having just enjoyed a father-son hotdog lunch featuring chili-smothered hot dogs at Will’s pre-school. “Maybe it’s just gas.”
Will was sure. So we pulled off at the next exit, which thankfully did feature a gas station. Rob pumped gas while Will and I ran in hand in hand. The women’s restroom was locked. I didn’t even hesitate before trying the men’s. Locked.
So Will jumped around while we waited for an open restroom. Then as I held him on that toilet-paper covered public toilet, Will made some chili-dog inspired bodily noises, produced nothing to flush, and announced with a shrug: "I guess it was just gas." And it was up with the underwear and back to road.
Then we trudged through construction traffic around Newnan, Georgia. And by the time we’d hit Atlanta traffic our scheme to beat the rush hour had been thwarted so we sat in more stalled traffic after first pulling off to nurse crying Owen beside some mega parking deck.
Which brought us to a looming question. We’ll be heading out to Colorado in June for my cousin’s wedding and for some general fun in the mountains. And we’re considering skipping the plane tickets and rental cars and making a road trip of it instead.
“Are you sure we want to do 48 hours of this?” I asked Rob yesterday as we waded through the rush-hour traffic and I fought off some minor nausea I’d given my car-sick prone self by turning around too often to hand toys or cheerios to Owen.
But really Will was a trooper and Owen was semi-easy to keep content with a parade of toys and sufficient nursing. So we’re still considering it. And I’m still wondering if we’re insane.
So it’s time for another poll: