There are a couple of things you should know before reading any further. First of all, I love road trips. I especially love to take road trips with my mom and my daughter. We listen to loud music (Steve Miller Band is great Road Trip Music), yell at other drivers ("Thanks a lot, Stupid!" is one of our more famous sayings), marvel at majestic scenery (the Vermilion Cliffs and the Grand Staircase are amazing). My daughter, Sofie, will read voraciously in the back seat. She doesn't like to be interrupted while reading, but every once in a while we can get a "ROCK ON!" out of her, and she loves to repeat our outbursts of road rage (that's how we can have a famous saying). She's seven. The other thing you need to know here is that in spite of being such an advanced reader, she still gets the words "bra" and "breast" mixed up. Don't ask me how this is possible.
Last week the three of us were hurtling back from a quick visit to Flagstaff, Arizona. We were on our second day of the return trip, so we were getting a little rummy. Our road trip philosophy is basically to switch drivers every two hours, and at the switch we have to take care of any other needs: buy gas, get something to eat, use the bathroom. We drive for 12 or 13 hours in a day - that's how we can get there in just over a day and a half. So we were coming along I-84 (which, by the way is also called Old Oregon Trail Highway), passing by an abandoned cement factory in Lime, Oregon, and then continuing on through some desolate curves and dry hills. We came around a corner, wishing we would see a place offering up something to eat. Instead, we saw a little shack with a lot of old cars left around the outside, and driving up a hill away from it all was a covered wagon. As I was the driver on the curvy road, I couldn't stare too much at it, but both Mom and I were exclaiming and shouting, "Look, Sofie! There's a covered wagon! See it? See the horses? It's just like what Laura Ingalls Wilder rode in!" We were excitedly talking over one another and Sofie could hardly pull her eyes away from her book, but she did grunt in acknowledgement. Then Mom said with wonder, "Wow, a covered wagon! Look, it has three mules abreast!"
It was silent for a moment and then I began to snicker. Mom looked insulted. "What?!", she demanded. I started to laugh. "I can't even imagine what she thinks that means!" Mom realized what it was that she had said, and then she started to laugh, too. By this time I was crying from laughing so hard, and it was hard work to keep my eyes open to see the road. Finally one of us asked Sofie what she thought that had meant. "Well", she said, "I didn't really know. I guess it means three mules are next to each other and their breasts are touching." Of course that made me howl with laughter. Mom was trying to be very proper and not laugh, mostly because she didn't want me careening into a ditch. She explained what she had meant. An hour later, we traded drivers. I got in to the passenger seat and started giggling. I could hardly talk, but I managed to squeal, "Three mules abreast!" and then I dissolved with laughter.
A week later, after the first day of school, Sofie and I were home having an afternoon snack. There were some old lame balloons creeping around our house, and she grabbed two of them and stuffed them under her new copper colored tunic. "Look at my bras!", she exclaimed proudly.
No comments:
Post a Comment