I left the next morning at 11 am and after 3 hours of the 12 hour drive, I cursed myself for ever coming up with this crazy 750 mile idea. Then I remembered my mother's homemade rolls. I would drive 1000 miles for one of those. The kids were really great in the car busying themselves with books, drawing, and Nintendo DS. I needed potty breaks more frequently than they did. The final 3 hours, however, the powerful pull of cousins took possession of their souls and they became excruciatingly annoying. "How much longer? How much farther? How many more miles? What time will we get there? How many more minutes?"....as if rearranging the question will change the outcome. I finally resorted to the pathetically empty threat of ,"If you ask me one more time, I will turn around and go home."
We arrived. Two days later, Corey arrived. All of the long driving hours, the noisy kids, the late flight, the small beds, the chaos, the knee knocking tight fit at the Thanksgiving table and the astounding lack of decision making ability when 3 or more of my siblings congregate.....all of this discomfort was swallowed by a few miraculous moments that were created by just being together.
Grandma P. teaches Ansel some checker strategy
Grandma P. orchestrates singing time