Wednesday, September 4, 2013

ROAD TRIP 1: THE WRATH OF BABY

For Labor Day weekend this year, we decided to go on a vacation of our very own as a family.  We probably should have told Baby beforehand.

See, in his brief four-and-a-half months of life, Baby really hasn't spent that much time in a car seat.  And we just drove with him to St. George and back.  You can understand his frustration at having to spend that much time pent up in a car seat.

Mind you, we took several breaks along the way, both to visit relatives and to feed Baby, but that only made the journey even longer.  By the time we got to St. George, he was quite grumpy, and felt the need to take it out on us.

So it was that the next day he fussed all the way through church (though this was also partly because of his mission to make all the grandmas in the world happy, as there were several grandmas in the foyer who were all heartened by his cuteness).

What, me cute?  You're too kind . . .
Then, of course, he spent the whole afternoon crying and carrying on despite the fact that we had attended to his every need all day long, including all during church.  And once we did finally get out of the hotel ("Everyone around us is going to hate us," I said to commutergirl; "They all asked for other rooms long ago," she rejoined), he had a three-wiper blowout halfway through the Brigham Young home; that was the end of that.  We had to exit two restaurants and a shopping mall in great haste because Baby was proving himself a disagreeable neighbor.

He was pretty good for the rest of the trip, but then we had to drive home, of course.  I spent much of the drive fantasizing about high-speed rail.  Baby actually spent most of the drive home asleep, but by the end of the trip he was clearly at the end of his rope.  It took much consoling and cajoling to get him to go to sleep last night, as he was determined to convince us of his displeasure (trust us, Baby, we get it after about three seconds; there's no need to go on and on about it!).

Tonight we fed him mashed up sweet potatoes for the first time, and it appeared that all was forgiven.  But then, as all things must, the sweet potatoes came to an end, and we were stuck with a very wrathful Baby.

No more car seats for a while.

(Only buses and trains . . .)

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