Surviving Road Trips With Kids
1) Don’t take them. Or don’t take them without an adult partner.
2) Announce your departure every 15 minutes. “We leave in 15 minutes.” Repeat 11 times.
3) Try not to cuss out loud when your kid announces his urgent need to pee as you pull into the gas station down the street. From your home. The one you JUST left.
4) If you DO cuss and maybe tell your kid you’d rather his bladder explode, ignore the bewildered looks of other people at the gas station. Try to stand in front of your license plate as you do this.
5) Put in your ear buds as 3 kids play on their phones at max volume and 1 more demands you turn up “LEGO Chima” DVD so he can hear it over his own recitation of the dialogue. He’s got it memorized, so this is the one he has to watch.
6) Listen to a lecture and maybe miss a few emergency vehicles behind you until they’re RIGHT behind you. No worries. You won’t see them again once you leave the city limits.
7) Refuse to turn on your hotspot periodically in the desert just to mess with them. Payback for “Are we there yet” 15 minutes into your trip, and every 30 minutes after.
8) Stop for scheduled bathroom break for middle guy/potty procrastinator so he can pee. Find out lil guy had bigger potty plans and overstay your pit stop by 45 minutes for butt wiping time. is real.
9) Spend $100 on gas station snacks you wouldn’t pack in the car because you don’t want your kids to eat expensive garbage. Purchase them now because your senses are dizzied from breathing in a pit stop bathroom so long.
10) Leave snacks in the back so you don’t have to Elastigirl your right arm back and forth to feed them. Plus they want $100 garbage and not the cheese string and peeled/sliced cucumbers you packed.
11) Ignore the bickering that starts once phones die because you remembered to put in your earbuds.
12) Take no less than 5 highways to reach your destination in LA because the rest of the nation’s states only need 2-3. This is where commuters go to die.
13) Park at your hotel, pull out all the luggage, and try to check into the wrong hotel. Give whiniest kid the heaviest suitcase to push. Then tell him it’s the wrong hotel.
14) Carry whiny kids’ luggage in addition to the 3 pieces you were carrying as well as lil guy’s shoes and stand in a long line to check in. This will take 40 minutes.
15) Go upstairs to find out your two rooms are on opposite sides of the hotel. One for you, one for kids. Briefly consider this as a sign of respite from God, then go back downstairs to ask for closer rooms. Those who get to drink, I understand you. I hate you, but I understand you.