APRON STRINGS
Joyce Harnett

Short stories first published 1958 - 1962 By a mother of 7

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Trip Best Forgotton

# 5
Date 8-7-57

We took one of our rare over­night trips a, few weekends back. I'd have written about it sooner. But this should be a more or less semi-humorous column. Our mis­adventure could better be de­scribed as semi-tragic.
When we go forth on these safaris, we  never give it much thought beforehand. If we open the matter to discussion, the cons always outweigh the pros, and we end up staying home.
So armed with their careless "Come and see us sometime," we called our friends who live about 75 miles away, in the Valley. It's best to start such a conversation with a gay, "What are you doing this weekend?" In a moment of abandon, your friends think that you are about to invite them over to see you. When they commit themselves to a "Oh, nothing special" you can announce your in­vasion. Even on this end, I could tell the receiver was put down by a weak hand.
We left late in the afternoon. Everyone napped after lunch. It seemed a good omen.
However, Mary set the tone right after we swung into the traffic stream on the freeway. We passed a car with two Great Danes, both with their heads out the window, lapping the breeze.
"Look at the dogs," said she. "They're just like kids. They don't want to stay in the car."
Right then and there we should have taken the hint and turned back. My good judgment was clouded by .the recent rash of ar­ticles on 'how to travel merrily with children’. It seems that all you have to do to have a pleasant, quiet trip is to take along a lot of plastic bags to put things into.
It is my calm and measured opinion that the authors do not take the children along. Just the bags. Or, maybe they put the children in the plastic bags.
As soon 'as we crossed the Bay, it got hot. And hotter. And. hotter. Once we settled that we were not going to get out of the car, the children decided that second best would be getting out of their clothes. This seemed a peaceful enough occupation. My ears didn't perk up at the back seat squab­bling until it concerned whose shoe was going to be dropped out the window.
By the time we arrived, they were barely tired. They burst from the car like Indians and ran through the sprinklers on the front lawn. Mary endeared herself to our hostess by telling her that she was as old as her Mommy. Tim inquired how many kids they had. (They have three polite, well-behaved children.)
Once our darlings were dripping wet, they ran through the house to inspect the premises, then con­sumed three quarts of lemonade. Our friend's youngest was in the back yard. The back door was hooked because she was dripping wet from playing in a small pool. Her mother didn't like her run­ning through the house when she was wet!
It was the night that made us vow never to leave home again. We stayed up, talking, till past midnight. The children had finally collapsed from exhaustion about 10:30, after drinking gallons of water taken back to them a glass at a time. Seven of them were bedded down in a back bedroom.

All was still and quiet when we turned in. Ten minutes later our John must've had a nightmare. Whatever scared him, nothing would ease his fear except that he sleep with us. He sprawled out, hot and lump but happy beside me.
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