“How long do you think he’s been at this?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t know how much more I can take,” answered Eric.
“Hmmmm, hmmm, hmmmhmmm, hmmmHMMMMM!” Hudson was humming in the backseat. We were on hour two of our trip from San Antonio to South Padre Island. His vibrato and stamina were matched only by the likes of Pavarotti and maybe that guy that does the soccer announcements for Telemundo.
“It’s been at least 20 minutes,” I said, “I wonder how long he can keep this up?”
“Weeeoooo, weeeeoooo, weeeoooo…”
“That’s 10 solid minutes of siren sounds.”
“Can I please put a stop to this?” begged Eric.
“I suppose…I guess you aren’t the scientist that I am,” I replied.
So our experiment ended at 40 minutes. 40 minutes of humming and siren sounds. 40 minutes of nonstop noise in the close confines of our SUV.
We had started this trip 3 days ago. Fours hours from Tulsa to Dallas. One overnight in Dallas. Four hours to San Antonio. Two nights in San Antonio. Two poopy diaper changes in the car. One emergency stop on the side of the road for Hudson to pee. About a hundred meltdowns over lost stuffed animals, blankets, markers, and malfunctioning headphones.
“I’m hungry,” announced Hudson.
“I’m hungry too, “ chimed in Kenzie.
We pulled in the DQ, which is the only place to eat in south Texas by our own informal survey.
“I want ice-cream, “ said Hudson.
“Eat your corndog first.” I said this because I am a responsible parent who makes sure my children get their daily-recommended intake of protein and processed mystery pig parts on a stick. By this point I was barely hanging of the remnants of good parenting. They had watched hours on end of “Bug’s Life” and eaten more fast food in three days than I care to remember. It was the best I could do.
We loaded back into our trusty Acadia.
“Is it long before we get there?” asked Hudson about five minutes in and for the 50th time that day.
“I guess that depends. What do you consider ‘long’?” I’m pretty sure if Kierkegaard had been locked in a car for four hours with two children five and under in south Texas his philosophical questions would have sounded like this too.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, it’s all relative. If it’s long, depends on what you consider to be long. Half an hour? One hour?”
“I don’t know what you MEEEEAAAAN!” he whined.
I started to wonder why we had decided this was a good idea. Our first night in San Antonio our kids had been most impressed with the hotel. They loved the bed with it’s fluffy comforter that was all their own. Then the room service, glorious room service!
“You mean they bring food to our room?!” That part blew Hudson’s mind. Really we could have stayed at a Ramada Inn in Tulsa and called it good.
Then we finally got to South Padre and the beach. And as we watched them run to the beach for the very first time in their lives, we remembered why…
Sabine Brown blogs at Sabine Of Suburbia. You can find her on Facebook and Twitter.