On the way back from Cleveland last weekend I realized it was going to be a long ride. My nieces were completing the competitive eating marathon of sugar, with milkshakes, sour sticks, gummi bears, Sprite and cotton candy. The station was glued to Radio Disney, I my loathing of pop music is at least at the local legend level. Combined with rain, the urge to poo, and general exhaustion, I was rather crabby.
A five minute session of being poked in back with a wiffleball bat didn’t help matters, so I ripped the bat away…breathe…breathe… Right as our exit loomed, “Call Me Maybe” came on for the fifth time and I broke down as a man. Half joking, half insane I was pushed over the edge when traffic ground to a halt…three miles from our exit. I rolled down the window and yelled, “Help! I’ve been kidnapped by my family!” Much snickering ensued. Proving that kids are resourceful, my niece yelled back, “Help! I’m in the car with a 30 year old man that likes Captain America!” Well played, kiddo. Well played.
We finally made it home and all was right with the world. In other news, I am researching home vasectomies. Any tips are appreciated.