This last week, I went on a long road trip with Scott and Sven. Scott had a job interview in Roswell so we left Soren and Carl with neighbors and busted out the 13 hour drive down to New Mexico. Then, after the interview, we drove the 13 hours back.
Talking hour after hour with my husband was really nice. We never did get our book on tape working so we learned a lot about each other. I came back with lots of ideas about how to be a better wife. I also felt really excited to do something besides sit in a passenger seat. That means I came back with lots of energy for working on my current goals (teaching, writing, harping, and homemaking). So I loved being able to spend lots of our trip just talking.
However, for many of those hours, Sven was awake and requiring attention. I kind of thought he would play happily with some toys we borrowed from our neighbors while enjoying diluted juice in a sippy cup. While he did that for about five minutes, for most of the trip he wanted something more interactive. Because he was not happy about being stuck in the car.
I brought a canister of sweet potato puffs, which I deposited one by one onto the baby's waiting tongue. That would entertain him for 30 minutes at a time.
When the puffs could no longer hold off his boredom, I tried nursery rhymes. He wasn't very impressed with those.
I tickled him with a toy car while making "Vroom" noises. That got old for me a lot faster than it got old for him.
I read Baby Dress Up about a million times. He wanted to lift the flaps over and over again but couldn't handle it by himself. So I would hold the book open for him and exclaim, "Peek-a-boo!" whenever he revealed the costumed baby. I had a bit more patience for that game.
He also liked songs. That was the sweetest part of the trip: singing his rage to drowsiness and then to sleep. I sang all the lullabies I know, which took me on a walk down memory lane. It reminded me of singing to Carl and Soren when they were babies. Some of those lullabies don't get used around our house very much anymore.
He would be so happy when the car stopped and I would unbuckle his carseat. He fits so cozily on my hip. And he loved crawling around on the floor at fast food places and I, germaphile that I am, just let him do it. He would explore a bit, come back and squawk at me, receive a french fry, and then hurry off again.
The saddest part was looking at his face while I buckled him back into his carseat. Heartbreak.
Being the amiable baby that he is, though, he wouldn't cry about it for too long. Especially if I was willing to begin the entertainment circuit again. More sweet puffs, more hidden babies in adorable costumes, more songs and games.
This trip was much much easier than the trip we took last summer when he was five months. It was a bonding trip, rather than just a scream-fest to be endured. That said, bonding isn't quite the blissfully romantic experience I sometimes expect it to be.
I was happy to get home and be done bonding.
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