This weekend we are in Nebraska visiting family and celebrating a certain little girl's upcoming second birthday. Of course, since we don't have wings and are too cheap/broke to transport ourselves via aircraft of any sort, we are relegated to the time-honored tradition of road tripping it.
I love road trips with my husband. The kids aren't too bad, either, but only when we travel late enough for them to sleep the majority of the trip. Because a sleeping baby is a happy baby. Always remember that.
For those of us required to stay awake, however, we bring along our own sources of happiness. These typically include (but are not limited to) bottles of Starbucks Mocha Frappuccino (actually, this was Philip's first road trip experience with this particular beverage - it has been my secret weapon for many a late night adventure but he has only recently discovered its awesomeness), bags of Chex Mix (which, for the purposes of this trip, have been replaced with Hot Buffalo Pretzels for my spice-lovin' husband and a little bit of pizza-flavored Gamer Grub), and some Agatha Christie on CD (we prefer the French stylings of one Hercule Poirot - and if you can't say it with the accent it just doesn't count).
Oh, and every once in awhile we like to belt out a little "Live Like You Were Dying" by Tim McGraw - that's always the sprinkles on the top of a perfectly iced cupcake.
Because there's just nothing like singing about a bull named Fu Man Chu.
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