My children always act like it’s a surprise that when we’re in the car, we’re actually going somewhere.
Every time the kids get in the car, my instructions are the same: “Get right in your seats and buckle up. Right away.” Then I continue our usual laborious loading process. By the time I’m in my seat, buckled, with the car running, it’s been several minutes. Then I put the car into reverse and hear the same thing every time.
“Wait! I’m not buckled!” It’s like this is their first time in a car. Oh no, why is it moving, what’s going on with this crazy moving box on wheels? What kind of insane contraption is this conveyance I don’t remember ever being in before (although we were just in it yesterday)? I’m a marble in a pinball machine, why oh why am I not strapped to something?
“We need to go now!,” I growl at them. “You better be buckled by the time we’re in the street.” Wailing. Tears. Gnashing of teeth (mine). Paroxysms of abject terror (theirs). Finally, eventually, they get the buckles on and everything is fine the rest of the trip.
Until we get in the car to come home.