Rule #1: What happens in the back row of the minivan stays in the back row of the minivan.
We hit the road slightly ahead of schedule at around 10:45 a.m. This almost never happens. (And this was after a last-minute visit to the pediatrician.) "What an auspicious start to a big day," I thought to myself.
Fast forward five minutes.
10:50 a.m. – Having driven roughly 1.7 of the 446 miles we planned on driving for the day, in what was literally, the very first few hundred yards of the very first highway we entered, we were forced to pull over.
It appeared that some "behavioral issues" were getting the best of not only our kids, but us grown-ups as well. Only 2,129 miles to go. The Griswold family would've been proud.
I admit, I needed the time out as much as anyone. It was as if the morale of the entire family suddenly imploded under the pressure of our collective excitement at actually being on the road.
After all, we'd been delaying gratification for days, weeks even; beautiful, summer days, when, instead of spending time outdoors as we would've liked, we were hunkered down in darkened rooms – hunched over screens, hammering out tedious logistics, fretting over details and wondering how we were actually going to pull this off.
But alas, the time had come and having properly re-calibrated our attitudes, we pressed on. And on. And on. Such is the nature of driving through Pennsylvania. The video says it all, which is nothing, which says it all.
Tomorrow we hope to make Chicago.