Are we there YET?

The girls are adjusting to small town life just fine. Gone are the days when they would sit patiently in the car for the 15 minute drive to Tutu's house. Gone are the quiet moments when we would drive the 1 1/2 miles to the store. Gone are the begging voices to hear the VERY last song on the "kids" CD.

What has replaced this? The tried and true, "ARE WE THERE YET?" I put them in the car, back out of the drive, and they start asking me a string of questions. "Where are we going?" Answer: to the park. Excited giggles in the back. "Can we listen to the 'kids' songs?" Push button #6. Song one plays. Song two starts. "ARE WE THERE YET?" Answer: be patient, sweets, only a few more minutes. "A FEW MORE MINUTES! This takes FOREVER!" We arrive at the park. Total trip time: 3.5 minutes or 1.5 'kids' songs.

I've been wondering what has gotten into these girls. I thought at first that they might be just going through a 'stage'. But when they started whining as I drove to the store, I became suspicious. You see, the store is across the street, but we needed to pick up a propane tank. We piled into the car, backed out of the driveway, turned on the kids song, and the ruckus started. "Are we there, yet?" Total trip time: 30 seconds. Really. One right, one left, park. Get out of the car.

So, I became suspicious. I investigated. The back of the car was littered with toys and various entertainment paraphernalia. They weren't bored. I sat back on my heels and pondered. It was then that I realized what had happened. They were countrified! Since we've been walking everywhere, the car had suddenly become an ordeal to them. It was a horror! Why get into a metal container and hurtle down the street at dangerous speeds when a nice, brisk walk, looking at birds and bugs would be so much more fun?

Reagan, especially doesn't like the car. She's not tall enough to see much out of her window, and she likes to point out the scissor-tails and "lellow" car's cousin. She searches the trees for Chippy the squirrel. She carries a water bottle and proudly unscrews the cap and takes a swig of it every few steps. She can't walk and drink at the same time, so this necessitates a brief stop, and then a spurt of running to catch up with the rest of us. She likes the freedom of walking to the store, finding a "fun" cart, getting worn out and whining the last bit of the expedition. And she never asks, "Are we there yet?"