Vacation--old style

"Come on kids, let's go with Daddy." He had a business meeting in Charlotte, NC, so we thought we'd take the kids and make a mini-vacation of it. The two older were willing and ready on a day or two's notice; the youngest, at age 3 or so, was a homebody who didn't want to leave "mine own house and mine own toys," but we packed him up anyway. We were traveling in the company-leased station wagon, shocking now to think the kids just stretched out their sleeping bags in the back, and for most of the trip lay there reading their books, keeping their travel journals, watching the sights outside the window, etc. We were traveling light on this trip; I remember thinking my jeans were pretty much all I'd need to wear with no events planned, just to hang out at the motel pool for few days. After a few hours, sad little homesick Danny said his stomach hurt, so he sat on my lap in the front seat. (I know--now it would be child neglect and endangerment, but then it was perfectly acceptable.) I remember trying to soothe away his homesick blues, figuring that was the reason for the tummy ache. That turned out not to be the case though, because somewhere in New Jersey, he threw up all over the front seat, including me and my only pair of jeans. I have one vivid memory of us stopped along the turnpike trying to clear the mess from the front seat, Danny, and me. The other clearest part of that trip is me scrubbing my jeans in the motel sink, and trying to dry them with the hairdryer.