Page 100 of Sex. Love. Marriage.
BY FOUR INthe morning, the kids are wide awake and starving. And also, annoying the fuck out of us with their singing and constant need to ask where we are and how much longer. The singing is the worst.
Noah doesn’t seem pleased their eyes are open. “Why are they awake so early?”
“We are driving. The road noise probably woke them up.”
“I hungry!” Sevi yells from the back, kicking Oliver’s seat. “Let’s eat pantakes.”
“Pantakes?” Noah mouths, shaking his head. “Does he mean pancakes?”
I nod, smiling. “He does.”
“Tits!” Fin yells next, and we all crack up laughing. She has one word mastered and uses it for everything.
We stop for breakfast but the only place open that early is McDonald’s. Noah has the bright idea to let the kids eat in the car. Kids eating in cars never ends well. You tell them, “be careful,” and “don’t spill that,” and they do. Every single time. So the floor of my SUV has orange juice, pieces of sausage, and probably enough syrup to fill an entire bottle back up.
“It’s a good thing I know a mechanic. Maybe he can detail my car for me.”
“Or we trade it in,” he says around a mouthful of sausage McMuffin. “These are the kinds of trips where you just take it to the dealership and ask for the ‘as is’ price.”
“I swear if you don’t stop, I’m going to choke you!” Oliver screams at Hazel while she continues her never-ending version of “Baby Shark” that she’s now modified to “Baby Cat” and “Baby Bird.” Really, anything with a baby is made into a song.
I whip my head around, pointing a finger at my son. “Oliver, knock it off. Don’t threaten her.”
He keeps his hands pressed to his ears, glaring at me. “Make her stop!”
Beside me, Noah groans. “Who thought that song would be a good idea?”
I laugh and hand him his coffee. “No idea.”
“I need a cake pop,” Oliver grumbles, rolling down his window.
Thankfully Hazel does stop. Only because she moves onto singing songs fromThe Little Mermaid. “Daddy?” she yells, pausing her elaborate performance that’s left Oliver hanging his head out the window. He claims he’d rather eat bugs than hear his sister sing.
Noah tilts his head back and hands me his wrapper. “Yes, Hazel?”
“If you could be any animal, what would you be?”
“Something without ears,” he mumbles.
I smack his chest. “Stop it.”
“I’d be a bull,” he says, smiling at me.
“I’d be a unicorn,” she tells us. “Because then I could poop rainbows.”
“What’s that smell?” Oliver groans, sticking his head further out the window.
“What you say?” Sevi screams over Hazel singing again.
Twisting in my seat, I notice Fin with a weird look on her face. I turn back to Noah. “Remember that time we had to stop in the desert?”
His eyes snap to mine. “Did she shit herself again?”
I nod.
The next few hours are spent cleaning the car seat and Fin for the second time this trip and ends with us driving four hours out of the way and taking a family picture with a purple and pink sunset in the Grand Canyon. We’re creating new memories.
Noah squeezes me into his shoulder, Fin in his arms, and the rest of the kids playing with rocks at our feet. “I think she’s with us now,” he whispers, his breath hitting my temple.
