For
children it holds magic and wonder, but travel for parents is the harbinger of
anxiety and irritation. What mom or dad hasn't heard that eternal question that
grates on their nerves like Chinese water torture, "are we there yet?" Unlike
short road trips, however, it seems as if those "big family vacations" just
conjure near disasters.
Case in
point: On a trip in the not too distant past, my youngest used up two of his
nine lives. The first was on Highway 101, just north of the Golden Gate Bridge.
The narrow two lane route hugs the California coastline – scenic, awe
inspiring and picturesque. Yeah, that's it, a picture with the family and the
surf in the background.
Bad
idea.
We
pulled on to a small spit of dirt along the highway and, of course, I told
everyone not to cross the highway and stay close to the van. After all, it was
5 pm and even on that very curvy road, Californians drove as if chased by
Godzilla. Such warning was equivalent to saying to my then five-year old, "Go!"
because he bolted from the car straight for the busy highway like a squirrel
defying Houston freeway traffic. That kid was so fast all I managed to get hold
of was a hand full of hair by which I yanked him back from becoming roadkill. It was just then that a black BMW rounded the
corner like Speed Racer.
My
youngest cried while I suffered an ism and my wife aged 10 years (her words,
not mine).
Needless
to say I was shaken, so much so I did not attend a function that night at the
hotel. In fact my father-in-law graciously sedated me with a full glass of
Bordeaux. That would not be the last time I'd need sedation.
A few days
later, that same five-year old was playing on a beach in Hawaii. An unusually large wave rolled up
the beach and snatched him. Our middle son was nearest and leapt to his
brother's aid, digging his heels into the sand. That was not enough. As both were
pulled out to sea, our oldest lunged into action and helped his brothers. The
whole things was split second, but gave their mother and me time to get to
them. And we weren't more than 15 feet away.
Of
course, these incidents are nothing new to the Falloure clan. Long ago, in a
galaxy far away was a family with four boys. Once on a long journey along the
Rocky Mountains, the family stopped at a deep chasm in the Earth's crust known
as the Royal Gorge. My third brother, who happened to share the same name as my
youngest, stepped a little close to the edge. An exposed root is all that kept
him from holding the world's record for the Swan dive.
On
that same trip we came to snow banks along the road. None of had ever seen
snow. We jumped out of the car and immediately set to playing. My older
brothers thought it would be cool to toss their six-year old brother into
another patch of snow. When they did, I totally disappeared. They had no idea
that the snow covered a small trough in the landscape.
Not
too many years after that was my notorious trip to Disneyland with an aunt and
uncle, and their kids. The minute we got into the hotel room I sat on a flimsy
balcony railing and leaned way back. I don't recall what floor we were on, but
it was high enough to turn my uncle ghost-white when he saw me. I'm fairly sure
he still requires heart medication as a result. Nor did it help that at one
point they thought they lost me on Tom Sawyer Island. I was actually hiding in
a hollow because I didn't want to leave. Duh! I was around nine or so and at
Disneyland – no parents (of my own) and on an adventure island. Let's
face it, most aunt and uncles won't spank you and kids rarely think about the
tattle factor. So translate that whole situation into, "Heaven."
The short of it is, that when a family
takes a vacation, often so do kids' brains. And now that summer planning is in
full gear for you moms, keep that in mind when considering destinations for
this summer.
Bon voyage!
Copyright 2009 by David Falloure
