Road Tripping

I have a new fear concerning our upcoming cross country excursion. In the past couple of months, we’ve taken a few trips, in part to test the waters a bit. But those car rides have been a couple of hours, and next month’s is a couple of days. For a decent portion of those car rides, we’ve had a Screaming Mimi in the back seat. Or, should I say, a Screaming Bree Bree.

Everyone’s child screams. It’s a common complaint and we all, as parents, have to suffer through it. But my daughter is gifted. She can make my ears ring. I’m talking front row at an over-amplified rock god concert ring. Sometimes, you can tell it’s coming, like when she bonks her head on one of the myriad things she bonks her head on every day. Her face crinkles up with more anger than pain, and she lets out a tester wail. And then I start counting. Like the seconds in between thunder and lightning indicating how far away the storm is, the seconds between the tester wail and the scream to come foretells how loud and high-pitched the scream will be. And it’s always loud and high-pitched. You want to makes sure to back away during the lull. It’s a scream full of righteous indignation.

Imagine that for a good 75 minute stretch. Sure, the intensity varies, but there is no ceasing. The girl has lungs and she has stamina.

Couple her passionate hatred of being confined with the current culture of motor safety regulations, and we have a charming cocktail of irritation and migraines coming my way. Earplugs probably aren’t going to cut it, and, unfortunately, all the states we’ll be driving through have open container laws. I am desperately searching for any toy, activity, or music that will attract her attention and keep her from realizing she can’t move more than an inch in any given direction. The only rule I have is that they won’t kill her if stuck in her mouth. Otherwise, I’m open.

My fervent hope is that if boredom does hit, she makes likes a teenager and just sleeps the daylight hours away.