She’s back, folks!

Back from our trip!

After driving for twelve hours with two children under the age of four :hissyfit:, we survived. I have to give the kids credit–they never complained once. Of course, it helps that one of them can’t talk yet. :thumbsup:

One of my favorite states to drive through is West Virginia. With its rolling hills and green mountains, it’s just gorgeous. I only wish it had been fall when we were driving through. The colors are amazing during that season.

There was one moment of levity during the trip. We had reached Charleston, WV when suddenly my son got a look of terror on his face and said those fateful five words: “I have to go potty.” And if you have a small child, you know that this doesn’t mean in the next five minutes. It typically means you have about 90 seconds before they wet their pants. And the next exit was five miles away. I had visions of stopping on the side of the road and hustling him behind a bush.

And so the coaching began. “Come, on, you can hold it. Be a big boy! You can do it! We’re almost there!” :cheer:

At this point, the terror on his face changed to RAW PANIC. I’m sure he was praying for mercy. After my husband kicked the gas pedal up to 80 mph, we begged him not to pee in the car seat. “Come on, honey! It’s okay!”

Suddenly, there it was. The holy mecca of Charleston. The angels sang, the heavens resounded with glory, and the Wendy’s had a bathroom. I unstrapped my son from his car seat, and at this point his panic turned into sobbing. When I opened the restaurant door, he started screaming and stomping his legs.

But he made it. To reward him, he earned a small Frostie.

And all was right with the world.