One of my ongoing challenges each week is keeping Chloe (our four year old) awake for the 20 minute drive en route to her gymnastics lesson.
This may seem like an easy task to some. Um, talk to her? To you I say, HA!
Chloe could be mid-conversation and suddenly go eerily quiet.
Sometimes mid-sentence.
Me: Chloe, did you have a great day at school today?
Chloe: Yes, oh Mommy! We learned about
Me: What?
Chloe? What did you learn about?
Too late, she’s sound asleep.
So with my limited resources (driving a mini-van and having a BA in English) I resort to using the few tricks I have.
I’m not an unreasonable person. I don’t blast music or swerve dangerously on the highway but I can’t carry my four year old child into her gymnastics class like a newborn baby asleep in my arms and then shout, “And…GO!” as she comes to and wobbles through the doors toward what she thinks is a mirage of a balance beam while sleepwalking only to discover it’s real and she has to tip toe across it right now.
Not again. Not four weeks in a row.
If you thought texting and driving was dangerous and irresponsible, try coming up with things to stimulate Chloe’s brain long enough to keep her from dozing off while still concentrating on the road.
I start unrolling the window with the automatic roller thinking the fresh air will do her some good but the cold, dusty, highway air causes her to shout, “ROLL UP MY WINDOW! I’M FREEZING!”
I roll it up slowly because she’s mad and sadly, mad is good. It keeps her awake so I pretend I don’t know how the window actually works, the password equivalent of 1234–weak.
Chloe: Mommy, ROLL UP MY WINDOW!
Me: What? I can’t hear you?
Seriously? Now I’m pretending I’m deaf.
I finally get the window almost closed but she’s following it like a hypnotist’s watch with her eyes. She glances at the sky, then the window, the sun is bright and her lids become heavy.
Asleep.
So I offer her snacks but she’s not excited by grapes or crackers or mini-van dust bunnies.
Really Liz? Grapes and crackers were your slam-dunk magic stay-awake potion?
Chloe: Would you like me to stop and get you a Tim-bit?
Yep, I’ve played my biggest (and potentially ONLY) card and we’re not even half way there.
She nods her head but falls deeper asleep so I turn on the radio.
Damn you Jason Mraz! Curse you James Blunt! They’ll both put her so deep into REM (where is R.E.M. when you need them?) sleep, her coach will have to splash water fountain spritz on her face and have her sniff uneven bar chalk to get her to come to.
We arrive at the gym and I opt for the fireman’s carry as opposed to the swaddled baby because it’s a little funny but it also screams, “I’ve totally given up” to the crowd.
A couple of people say, “Awe” while others giggle and think, “I’m so glad I’m not that Mom” and then I stand Chloe on her feet.
Her body shudders and goes through a series of several small waves and she looks blurrily through the window to the gym.
Her coach opens the door and invites her over to the beam.
I hear her say loudly, “My Mom’s getting me a Tim-bit.”
I concede.
