On the best of days, driving 12 hours in the car with your toddler is an adventure.
Today, it was just what I needed.
At 6 a.m., WonderDaddy tucked me, Widget, and our stuff into a rented minivan, turrned on the GPS, and drove us down South for a meeting. I’d been planning to go since well before my diagnosis, but when it came down to it, I wasn’t sure how to actually do so, when I wasn’t supposed to
- be in a crowd; or
- stand up for too long as I recover from Thursday’s chemotherapy treatment.
So you know what? We decided to just try.
We drove straight through to Alabama, stopping for two rounds of running around grass lots, one lunch at Cracker Barrell, and nothing else.
Widget was (and is) an angel. We played games, talked, sang, did a sticker book, read books, and popped in an Andre Rieu DVD to sing him to sleep when he had trouble dropping off at naptime and again as the last hour loomed large at the end of the trip.
I slept. Or talked with WonderDaddy, having wonderfully intricate talks about the future, and plans, and ideas, as we have done on long trips in the car since college.
WonderDaddy, bless his heart, drove us South.
It was wonderful.
(This post was written Tuesday; sorry for the delayed post, but my internet access on travel was limited to nonexistant.)