On the road again, against all odds.

9:45 a.m. Cell phone rings.

Kristen: Hello?

Kristen's Mom: Do you need me to Fed-Ex your glasses to you?

Kristen: My glasses?

John (laughing): She read the blog.

Kristen: Yeah, John thinks I should have called you and asked you to do that, but I figured I wouldn't get them until Friday, so...

Kristen's Mom: So you'd have them for three of the six days you're gone.

Kristen: Yeah. Okay, so that sounds good.

Kristen's Mom: How was your morning?

Kristen: We're just getting on the road. We stopped at the Arch. And...well, I'll have to tell you the rest of the story later. But it involved someone in a uniform. Chasing your youngest grandchild.

John (in background): I can't believe how little respect he has for someone in a uniform.

Kristen: He doesn't know what a uniform means!

Kristen's Mom: Well, he might learn at an earlier age than you'd expect.

Kristen: I gotta go, Mom. The kids are killing each other.


10:15 a.m. Cell phone rings.

Kristen: Hello?

Kristen's Dad (tentative): Are you.... on the road?

Kristen: Yeah, we just left St. Louis because we stopped at the Arch.

Kristen's Dad: Oh good!

Kristen: Uh. Not so much.

Kristen's Dad: What happened?

Kristen: SIGH. We let go of Quinn's hand for 15 seconds.

Kristen's Dad: And?

Kristen: Oh god.

Kristen's Dad: What?

Kristen: He ran up the exit ramp, then turned and ran past the armed guard, through the metal detector, and down the entrance ramp. With. The. Guard. Chasing. Him.

Kristen's Dad: O-o-o-o-h.

Kristen: And then.

Kristen's Dad: There's more?

Kristen: The guard nudged him up the exit ramp, since that's where we now were, standing and whispering profanities at each other and grabbing Bryce's arm as he cackled, but as soon as Quinn saw us, he turned and ran from the guard, who then had to chase him into the museum and CARRY him back to John. Luckily the guard was a young, friendly guy. He never reached for his gun or anything.

Kristen's Dad (laughing, then clearing throat): Uh, sorry about that. How awful!

Kristen: I gotta go, Dad. The kids are killing each other.


2:00 p.m, Car chaos has reached a feverish pitch.

Bryce: Can I have my next toy now? Can I have my next toy now? Can I have my next toy now? Can I have my next toy now? Can I have my next toy now?

Kristen: ENOUGH!!! BRYCE! STOP REPEATING YOURSELF! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT?

Bryce: Two.

John (snorting water): Well, he did answer your question.

Kristen: Yes. Yes he did. So, is there any wine in here?