Going South, Part II

This is the remainder of the story of our drive to Arkansas over the Christmas holidays. We arrived at our hotel very late the first night - sometime around one a.m. I think - and by the time Dan located and carried in a few necessary bags, found pajamas, brushed teeth, and completed negotiations on who was sleeping with whom and in which bed, we were all sufficiently awakened that it took a good hour for everyone to settle down. Therefore, we made little effort to get up early the next (same?) morning. By the time we were in the Suburban and on the road, it was almost 10 a.m. And it was about then that the vomiting started...

Poor Cole. I know he couldn't help it. We were getting gas before we left whatever city we were in, and Dan and I were both standing outside of the vehicle. He was starting to pump gas, and I was going around to the back to dig for something to alleviate the panic levels that were escalating due to some alleged lost toy. It was at this point Jack or Katie yelled,

"Mom!! He's throwing up in the car!!!!!!

I just closed my eyes for a nano-second praying it wasn't too bad. It was. It was on the seat belt, the seat (thank Heavens they are leather), and on a host of items strewn about the cabin, some of which were tossed in the trash. He lost every bit of the huge breakfast he'd just consumed, and some I didn't think he had. We cleaned up the actual vomit, but of course the vomit smell lingered...it doesn't clean up as easily and all I could think of was how many hours we had left to travel with that smell wafting up my nose.

Dan asked me if I thought he was sick. I thought of saying I didn't know since I left my crystal ball at home, but instead just said that I wasn't sure. About an hour later, we had to stop for someome to go to the potty, and Cole threw up again. AGAIN!! And so, we cleaned up Cole and the car again, and this time found a large styrofoam cup and set it in his cup holder. I told him to please use this if he needed to throw up again. Bless his heart, he did. Every hour, almost on the hour, he did. The. Whole. Way. Back.

Around the sixth or so hour of this, we stopped for anottttthhher potty break for the non-thrower-uppers. I needed some super glue - don't ask, ok - which I opened once we got back on the road. I heard a commotion, which of course was not infrequent, and turned around to see Cole spilling his water he had begged over and over for at the last stop. Admittedly, I was chewing on him pretty hard, and was pulling out every napkin and tissue I could find to clean it up. In the process, I had unbuckled my seat belt and turned around in my seat on my knees without thinking twice. Still pretty worked up, I turned back around in my seat, but sat on something. I reached to get it, but it wouldn't come up. I leaned up out of my seat and looked down at a small silver and blue tube on the seat. I was still trying to actually take it in my hand when I realized with horror it was it was the super glue tube glued to the leather seat.

"No," Dan said. "No, no, no. Tell me it isn't."

"Uh, huh, huh, huh...ok, I won't tell you." I said trying very hard to suppress my giggling.

I don't remember the rest of the conversation exactly, but I couldn't stop laughing. I think it was nervousness, or maybe even fear Dan might slow down enough to open the door and push me out of the car. This just made Dan more mad, which made me more nervous, which made me laugh more! After he said he was finding a Wal-Mart so he could buy some acetone he quit talking to me!

I rode for the next 45 minutes to an hour with my back to the dash. Somehow I had managed to make most if not all of the glue come out of the tube, and of course it had holes in it, so I dared not to sit on it. While I was ripping Cole a new one for spilling WATER, I had brilliantly let the super glue tube slip onto the seat and had put my knee smack down on that tube.

You know how when you are not supposed to laugh, it's just all that more difficult to keep from laughing? Like in church. Or at a funeral. Something strikes you as funny, and you almost choke trying to keep it quiet. I had the worst time trying to stop my laughing. Even now, I am laughing about it. I don't know why, but there was nothing I could do about it, and I certainly couldn't un-do it, and it was such a baaaad thing!!

We find a Wal-Mart, and Dan comes back with a bottle of acetone and some Q-tips. He hands them to me and of course doesn't have to ask. I worked it as gently as I could, but in the end, well...a picture is worth a thousand words, right? And Dan says that's the minimum a new leather seat would cost. *cringe*

Let's just say it was a very long hard drive that night, and we were pretty haggard, smelly, and cranky by the time we arrived in North Little Rock about 10 pm on December 23. Dan occasionally reminds me that I will nevvvvvvvvvver live this down, and that I am permanently banned from any super glue use within 100 yards of the vehicles.