Thursday, March 27, 2014

Filled Under:

Crazy Things Said While On Long Drives With Kids



Follow on Facebook and Twitter.

There is something about long family trips that bring out the craziness in parents. Mel and I have two kids (Tristan, 7, and Norah, 4). We have driven all over the Midwest, West, and Pacific Northwest with our kids. After a 10 -15 hour drive we have often laid awake in a hotel room discussing how our kids turn into little monsters after a few hours on the road. But after reading this list, obviously we are not the only ones that change during a long drive. Below are a few examples of some of the crazy things Mel and I have said while on long drives. Names have been removed to protect the innocent.

If you don’t stop asking, we are never going to McDonald’s again. In fact, if you ask one more time to go to McDonald’s, I am going to gag you and put you in the trunk.

We have exactly five minutes to use the restroom, get gas, get lunch, and anything else. If you are not back at the car in five minutes, then have a good life because we are leaving you.

I am driving. I cannot reach back there and help you scratch your butt. I don’t care if it itches, I don’t want us all to die. Is that what you want? For us all to die? And even if I could help you, your butt is your problem, so handle it.

Wow! Did something die inside you? You are seven years old. You shouldn’t be letting out a smell like that.

If you hadn’t drank all that soda, you could probably make it seventeen miles to the next rest stop. I have no pity for you.

You’re wearing a Pull-Up. Just let it out. We aren’t stopping again.

Yeah… that trucker has some crazy eyes. Don’t wave at him. Don’t look at him at all. Just look at the floor.

I’m only letting you pick your nose in here because it’s a rental. In our own car, you will use a tissue.

How did you lose your shoes? They couldn’t have left the back seat. Why did you take them off in the first place? We still have six hours to drive today, and now I have to spend 30 minutes looking for your stupid shoes. You know what, if you don’t help me find your shoes, I’m never buying you shoes again, and you will spend your life with sores all over your feet because you won’t have shoes. Ugh… I hate your shoes!

Wow… Yeah... You know what, I’m not familiar with that word written on the urinal wall. Nope… new one for me. Just finish up and don’t worry about it.

Settle the argument or I swear I will let both of you out of the car to fend for yourself. Really think about this. Anyone could pick you up, even that trucker with the crazy eyes.

 Do you ever say crazy things during long car rides?

Follow on Facebook and Twitter.

Clint Edwards was blessed with a charming and spitfire wife, a video game obsessed little boy, and a snarky little girl in a Cinderella play dress. When Clint was 9-years-old his father left. With no example of fatherhood, he had to learn how to be a father and husband through trial and error. His essays on parenting and marriage have been featured in New York Times Motherlode, Huffington Post Parents, Huffington Post Weddings, and The Good Men Project. He lives in Oregon. Follow him on Facebook and Twitter.
Photo by Lucinda Higley


Unknown said...

I am crying...! I needed this! Have a kid in the hospital and making the journey two times a day-have 8 still at home. I REALLY NEEDED THIS READ. Thank you!

Clint said...

You are very welcome!