GENE PERRET'S WIT STOP

How to Enjoy CAR TRIPS WITH KIDS — Wait Until They Grow Up

MY WIFE AND I HAVE DRIVEN ALL OVER Arizona, and I enjoy it. In fact, my wife mentioned that to me on the last trip. She said, "You get a kick out of these jaunts, and years ago you never used to enjoy motor trips. What happened?" I said, "It's because of what's in the backseat." She turned and looked and said, "There's nothing in the backseat." I said, "Exactly. Years ago, there used to be four kids there."

Now don't get me wrong. I love my kids. In fact, I love all kids. I think they're a blessing and truly a gift sent from heaven. It would be nice, though, if they came with their own mode of transportation.

Wouldn't that be ideal? "Kids, we're going to vacation at Lake Powell this year. Your mother and I have the car loaded up and we're leaving now. We'll meet you there."

Of course, it doesn't work that way. The youngsters are part of the motor trip. They let you know that by beginning each excursion with a dispute.

"I wanna sit by a window," they all say in unison like a junior version of the Beatles.

"Just get in the car, please."

I explain to them, "There are four of you and only two windows."

"I wanna sit by a window," they repeat proving that they totally grasped my explanation.

"All right," I say. "You," pointing to the "you" I mean, "sit by the right window in the back." I point to another "you" and say, "You sit by the left window in the back." I select another "you" and say, "You sit by the passenger side window in the front." Then I tell the last "you," "You sit by the driver side window in the front."

One of them then asks, "Where will you and Mom sit?"

I say, "We'll be in the trunk." This rattles them enough to all load into the backseat with the agreement that after a specified number of miles or after our first stop, they'll rotate.

We're on the road at last with my wife and me reciting a litany of "don'ts." "Don't start singing that annoying song again. We've heard it for 72 miles now." "Don't hit your little sister." "Don't throw stuff out the window."

Occasionally, we'll stop at a lookout point to give the youngsters a chance to stretch their legs and enjoy the scenery, or at a rest area because one of the four is always complaining, "Dad, I have to go to the bathroom." Throughout their childhood, it never dawned on our offspring that perhaps they could all go to the bathroom at the same place. No. Just as each had to have his or her own window, so each one must have his or her own rest room along the way.

The periodic pit stop was as restful to us parents as it was to the children. It offered us temporary release from the car's confinement, too. The problem was rounding up the youngsters to get moving again.

I would stand by the open door and recite the names of the children as they entered the vehicle.

Once a passerby said, "Making sure you got them all, huh?"

I said, "Not really. Just making sure I don't leave with more than I came with."

And there's always that perpetual whine, "Are we there yet?" One year I pulled to the side of the road and said, "Yes, we're there." We spent our entire vacation on the side of the road sleeping in the car.

I didn't really, but don't you think it would have stopped them from asking that question again? Probably not.

Of course, all this was years ago. The youngsters are grown now. We still vacation together whenever our various schedules permit. But whenever I suggest that we take just one car, the kids always say the same thing: "I'll tell you what, Dad. Why don't we just meet you and Mom there?"

I like it like that. AH