About an Hour

When all of the kids were little and we traveled a lot, we were constantly peppered with the typical "Wheeeeen will we geeeeeet there?" "How much loooooooonger?" "Are we close yet? Huh? Are we? Are we close?" and every other imaginable way to ask, "Can I get out of this stupid car seat and run around again yet?!?!"

In a fit of inspiration, either Dave or I answered with, "about an hour". I think we were 10 minutes from our destination, so we got a few minutes of peace and then lots of excitement when they arrived much sooner than they thought. Somehow, "about an hour" stuck. "How much longer?" "About an hour." "When will we get there?" "About an hour." "Are we almost there?" "About an hour." You get the picture. It didn't take long for them to catch on and try to get around it, but for the most part, they just stopped asking because they were so sick of getting the same (or nearly the same- "about 60 miles") answer every single time they asked.

That is, everyone except for Nate. He just can't stand getting the same answer every time. Rather than stop asking, he asks in every creative way possible. "Are you sure we're going the right way?" "Are we almost to a bathroom?" "Are we stopping for gas soon?" "Can I unbuckle yet?" And really, on and on and on. I had no idea there were so many ways to ask when a trip would end. Then again, we all know about his complete inability to sit still. Long car trips really must be something close to torture for the poor kid. Not just sitting, but buckled into one position for hours! The horror!

Sorry. Back to the story. The whole point of this is that tonight, he got me.
"Mom, is it our exit next?"
"No Nate, not for awhile yet."
"I know it's not about an hour mom. The sign said 13 miles." (say this in a very condescending way because mom is not very bright)
"But Nate, there's lot's of traffic."
"But you're driving fast, not slow."
"So when do you think we'll be home, Nate?"
"About 5:17" (it was 5:02 on the clock).

We pulled into the driveway at 5:18. "See mom? I told you it wasn't about an hour."

Looks like he has worn out another one of my coping techniques. Luckily, I can apparently just make up algebra problems for him to figure out, thus allowing him to calculate the distance and stay occupied for a few minutes of each and every agonizing trip we take from this point forward. Lucky kid. How many 6 year olds can brag about being trapped in a car seat against their will AND tortured with algebra at the same time?