Since Cavan and I's daily routine involves me driving her to school on my way to work, and more often than not, picking her up on my way home, I thought I'd share some of her car antics. Some are really cute, some result in meltdowns, and one Mommy is not-so-fond of (and I'll blame Daddy for this!)
1) Cavan and her hand obsessions. Many moons ago when we first switched to a forward-facing carseat, Cavan always wanted to hold my hand while we were in the car. And since I was the one doing the driving, this was impossible. My explanation: "Mommy needs two hands on the wheel when we are in the car, but at red lights, we can hold hands." This seemed to satisfy her at the time and has now turned more into a game. At a red light, I'll hold her hand, but sometimes I'll try to take it away before it turns green. She hangs on for dear life and shouts "it's still red!" But the moment it turns green, she not only lets go, but practically throws my hand back at me. And similarly, because of my previous explanation, if she sees me driving with only one hand, she'll scream, "Mommy two hands on the wheel!" The only real problem with this is that I have to put my second hand where she can see it, which is usually right on top, and pretty uncomfortable...until I can distract her with something else.
2) Swiper's here! HIDE! Cavan rarely watches Dora the Explorer (one of my least favorite cartoons), but she is obsessed with Swiper (for those of you who are not fluent in Nick Jr. animation, he is the pesky fox that tries to "swipe" whatever Dora is carrying in that episode.) When Cavan yells HIDE, I have to put my right hand by the side of my face to conceal myself from the imaginary fox. Mind you, this is while I am driving and seems to be the exception to the "two hands on the wheel" rule. She will then announce that Swiper is either sleeping or "not here anymore" so I can put my hand down. Sometimes he even hides in the trees or "other people's cars" depending on the scenery we are passing at the time.
3) Bumps vs. rumbles. As most of us have experienced, this winter and the subsequent salt took a toll on the roads, littering our route to school with potholes. One day coming home—a day with no nap and no car-ride sippy—a bump sent her into a hysterical meltdown. Since then, she reserves a special kind of anxiety for bumps. Solution/explanation: "Cavan, if it just makes noise, it is called a rumble and rumbles are fun!" It took a bit of convincing, but she eventually bought into this idea. But what about those pesky bumps? If avoiding them at all costs isn't an option, a warning that a bump is coming will usually avert a frenzy. But sometimes Mommy forgets, and then, bring on the symphony.
4) Road names. Cavan loves knowing which road we are driving on at any given time and with startling accuracy for a two-year-old, can tell you the name of the street we're on between our house and school. Even the roads with cooky, Indian-inspired names. (Though it would be really cute to tell you all the names of the streets she is able to identify and pronounce, doing so would be a road-map...ha, pun...to our home address, and all the internet pretators that read this blog would then know how to find and kidnap us. Dramatic, probably, but Hubby is concerned about maintaining complete anonymity, so I guess I'll comply to avoid an argument later. That is, if he even reads this entry, and this is a test! I'll keep you posted on whether or not he passes!) Anyway, now Cavan just has to learn to read so I don't have to name every cross street on every car trip anywhere we go.
5) Spitting. Here's the antic that Daddy takes full blame for (and yes, he is deserving of the Mommy-look-of-death for this one). Apparently Cavan was crying in the car after Daddy picked her up from school one day. To get her to laugh, he started blowing raspberries at her, which turned into a sloppy spitting game, as Cavan immediately imitated. As Cavan is sitting on my lap later in the evening, she spits right in my face, to her delight and my...well, delight is not how I would describe it. "No spittle-bugs," I say, but she continues until she earns a time out, after which I learn about Daddy's little game. Only Daddies think spitting is both funny AND a good game to teach your child. Now Cavan knows the rule: "Mommy doesn't like spitting, but Daddy likes spitting. I can only spit in Daddy's car!" (And only when Mommy is not a passenger!)
nolan insists on knowing which direction we are going with every turn, as well as where his nana and grandma and best friend (and everyone we know)'s house is located in relation to our car.... now that i think of it, this is probably a good exercise to keep my sense of direction in shape
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