This page contains a Flash digital edition of a book.
Mum’s talk... by Sarah Reid Are we there yet?


It’s the car cliché everyone’s familiar with. The answer every time must surely be “No”, because otherwise why would you still be driving? But the question remains a perennial favourite of back-seat passengers regardless.


In our car, things have got a bit more sophisticated. The booster- seated one has learned not to ask a closed question because that’s just too easy for the parents to dodge. She now frames it as a cunning “How long till we’re there?”. This needs both calculation and context from the front seat. Mileage? Number of stops? Likely traffic? And then the timing expressed in terms of hypothetical Dumbo viewings.


Within the confines of the car and the restrictions of the road, it really is that old refrain about the best laid plans. The sensible strategy may be for two stops, breaking the journey into three stretches of similar lengths. The reality can be anything from one stop followed in quick succession by another (someone didn’t need the toilet then, but does now) or bypassing both the approved stopping points before frantically screeching into the next petrol station (someone fell asleep but has now woken up in a hunger- induced rage).


We once waved off some friends who had spent the weekend with us, and after they had loaded the children and the bags into the car they joked about seeing us again in half an hour following the obligatory car sickness episode. The hapless parents were back well


46


within the half-hour they’d joked about. It was more like 10 minutes before they were shamefacedly pulling up again to hose down both child and car, and trying the whole thing for a second time.


But sometimes it’s the little things that can be most frustrating. Why the insistence on removing shoes and socks on even the shortest of journeys for example? Or the sudden desire to sleep after resisting a nap earlier on?


I’m afraid I have on occasion humiliated myself with panicked singing in a pitiful bid to stop a little person falling asleep minutes before we get to our destination. After willing them to sleep for the last few hours, the focus then turns to the crazed desire to keep them awake.


My singing’s not good and I know that when I see that little horrified face in the rear-view mirror my work has been done. “Are we there yet?” never sounded so desperate.


You can follow Sarah on Twitter @sarahereid7


To advertise in thewire t. 07720 429 613 e. the.wire@btinternet.com


Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24  |  Page 25  |  Page 26  |  Page 27  |  Page 28  |  Page 29  |  Page 30  |  Page 31  |  Page 32  |  Page 33  |  Page 34  |  Page 35  |  Page 36  |  Page 37  |  Page 38  |  Page 39  |  Page 40  |  Page 41  |  Page 42  |  Page 43  |  Page 44  |  Page 45  |  Page 46  |  Page 47  |  Page 48  |  Page 49  |  Page 50  |  Page 51  |  Page 52  |  Page 53  |  Page 54  |  Page 55  |  Page 56  |  Page 57  |  Page 58  |  Page 59  |  Page 60  |  Page 61  |  Page 62  |  Page 63  |  Page 64  |  Page 65  |  Page 66  |  Page 67  |  Page 68  |  Page 69  |  Page 70  |  Page 71  |  Page 72  |  Page 73  |  Page 74  |  Page 75  |  Page 76  |  Page 77  |  Page 78  |  Page 79  |  Page 80  |  Page 81  |  Page 82  |  Page 83  |  Page 84  |  Page 85  |  Page 86  |  Page 87  |  Page 88  |  Page 89  |  Page 90  |  Page 91  |  Page 92  |  Page 93  |  Page 94  |  Page 95  |  Page 96  |  Page 97  |  Page 98  |  Page 99  |  Page 100  |  Page 101