"We'll smell your feet later, buddy"

Yep, that's about where we are in our 5 1/2 week road tripping adventure. It has come down to not only smelly feet, but the desire to prove to others that one's feet aren't actually all that bad. We were somewhere in Wyoming yesterday, heading happily toward the Grand Tetons (French for...), when our kids decided that even though their feet looked dirty, they weren't really too smelly. My oldest, who was sitting behind me, tried to insist I take a whiff by sticking his feet through the gap in the headrest. Once I let him know I seriously had no desire to smell them, he stopped encouraging me to do so. But my youngest was truly hoping hubby and I would indulge him and "just smell them, please, really qwickly." I actually almost did, simply because he was so sincere and serious, but I quickly changed my mind and assured him we would do so at another time. Honestly, I didn't plan on actually following through with that, it just kind of came out.

Observation:

My youngest has resorted to squishing his face for entertainment. Location: somewhere in Iowa.

"Don't eat the sofa."

What makes this quote so funny to me is not so much the words themselves (although really, who says that in normal conversation?), but the manner in which they were told to me. We were working our way south from Michigan and stopped by to see some other friends in Kentucky - these ones we hadn't seen in about 10 years. Like all others so far, we just chatted and told stories and laughed about old times as if we had been apart only a few days. As we were getting ready to leave, our friend said he had one more thing to tell us, specifically for this blog-thing, and proceeded to relate the story of how the above words, incredulously to him, ended up coming out of his mouth: There had been some storms recently and their power went out, so he, his wife, and their two sons temporarily moved to a motel to beat the humid Kentucky heat. After a few days, the power returned so they packed their things to head back home. But not before he turned around to walk out the door and witness his youngest chomping on the sofa (older brother clarified to us that he was not actually eating the sofa, just biting it). He then blurted out what he blurted out and walked out the door, shaking his head. Now, as he was telling us all this he kept interjecting that he couldn't believe what had just come out of his mouth. He kept laughing and saying he never imagined the need to say such a thing to one of his children. Hubby and I laughed knowingly and we all joked about 'how much times have changed' - we can say crazy things and now people won't look at us strangely! Well...maybe not that last part...

"It's not nice to kill people."

- Play a happy game -

- Don't say you're going to kill me -

- Because people don't like it when you say you're going to kill them -

- I know it's not real, but still - nice games are more fun -

- You can chase me, but maybe you can just bump me with it instead -

- Good idea, let's just play something else -


(I know, it's more fun playing with your brother and sister. Mom's kinda lame. They'll be back soon.)

"Don't use the knife on people."

Sound advice for a 2 year old - something she will surely carry with her for years to come - and something she might even pass along to her peers the next time she's playing kitchen at a friend's house. On our travels we have been fortunate to find old friends and reconnect with them by spontaneously showing up at their doorsteps and inviting ourselves in. (well maybe not so 'spontaneously' - we did give a few people a day or two notice). But, not only have people been open and warm and generous, they have shared wonderful tales of adventures and, ultimately, parenthood (since all of these friends, including us, didn't have children when we first started hanging out). I wasn't able to capture all of the great quotes or situations that came up in our visits, just a few. But what I did notice throughout it all was the common thread of crazy talk that has become so common for all of us these days. And it was great. It was only after our friend said what he said that he chuckled a bit and looked at us and shrugged. We laughed too and started elaborating on his statement until it all got even too silly for us. And that, really, exemplifies what has made this trip so amazing so far: That we can pick up right where we left off 7, 10, 17 years ago, as if we had only been away for a weekend and have brought back tales to tell and memories to share. And that is what I hope our children will remember from this trip. Although I know full well that they'll tell their friends all about Michigan's Adventure and riding in Grandpa's boat and watching lightening storms rather than the incredible bond of friendship that can remain strong despite years of separation. I was 4...6...8 before.