Our story picks up in a van. Not just any van, though. This van was parked in a muddy driveway on a cold day and held five children ages three to eight. This van had a nifty built-in car seat for the three year old. It was this car seat that began our trek home.
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHAAAHHHAAHAHHAEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAA," screamed Keaton. "I DON'T WANT TO SIT IN THIS SEAT! I DON'T WANT TO! NONONONONONONONONO! I DON'T WANT TO! STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!"
I don't think he wanted to sit there.
However, it was the only car seat in the van suitable for him, so I gave Trey an awful look (because this was his fault?), strapped in the screaming child, and moved on to the other issue brewing in the van.
It seemed there was some sort of disturbance regarding what movie we should watch on the way to College Station. "Let's take a vote!" was shouted out, followed by "Peter Pan!," "The Incredibles!," "Polar Express!" (do I need commas and exclamation points in that series? I'm too lazy to look it up.)The problem with voting is that sometimes no one agrees on anything. An issue that kind of set the tone for the whole three days.
Finally, I squelched all talk of movies until we were down the road a little way, hoping that some quiet time of reflection would help them agree (and perhaps I subconsciously hoped to find a filled flask in the glove box). This little plan didn't work and there was no flask, so I had to put my foot down.
Keaton could choose. After all, he is my baby and he had screamed the most. Seems fair, doesn't it? I'm not proud of it, but I was desperate for a movie choice and some silence after the twelve long minutes we'd been in this screaming hell.
So Keaton, my sweet baby, chose Veggie Tales, his favorite movie of late.
I started flipping through the DVD cases, remembering how sweet Keaton sounds when he sings all of the songs in this movie, proud of myself for my swift decision making skills. But as I looked I became more and more frantic. Where was it? Where was Lord of the Beans? It had to be here! We had finally decided on a movie. Could the worst really be happening?
Yep. It was in the DVD player in the truck we left at Grandma and Pop's house. We had no Veggie Tales.
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHAAAHHHAAHAHHAEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAA," Keaton began again. "I WANT VEGGIE TALES! YOU SAID I COULD PICK! GO BACK! GO BACK AND GET IT!"
After a deep breath, I used my best negotiating skills to talk the kids into another movie. I asked Brian, the oldest of the kids and child of the van's owner, to put the DVD in. He kindly obliged, but there was a problem. It was a "disc error" to be more specific.
So we tried another disc. Without breaking the law by taking off my seat belt, I contorted myself into the back seat, ducked my head under the DVD screen, and began pressing buttons. When I could no longer feel my body from the neck down, I told the kids we'd have to wait until Trey stopped to get gas. When he stopped, I'd get the movie going. No worries.
No luck. We stopped to get gas, I climbed into the back seat, tried every movie we had, pressed every possible button. This thing was broken. Toast. There would be no movies.
"It'll be okay," I assured them. All the while I was sobbing inside.
We were in Corsicana. A full twenty minutes from Mom and Dad's. This was going to be a long trip.
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