The other day our usual half early morning journey to my mums house took a total of two hours. Two whole hours. It had to happen. One of those things that you dread happening with a toddler in the car, happened.
Baby Z is now at the stage where he has decided he would rather not go into the car seat. So, every day, at approximately 7am, our entire street can hear him screaming whilst I try to prise him into the car. He is getting good though. His arms can go out like those stretchy Lance Armstrong dolls in an instant and will clutch onto the sides of the car. I normally end up slightly exasperated by the time i’m done buckling him in; not the best way to start the day.
So, getting stuck behind an accident on the motorway with a grumpy toddler that is trying to break free is something I hadn’t been looking forward to.
As soon as I approached the mass of stationary cars, all patiently (and impatiently) waiting, I could feel the dread fill me. Oh crap. No no no
no…I just hoped it would clear quickly.
Within half an hour Baby Z was getting impatient and I was trying to entertain him by passing back toy after toy and then the odd CD to keep him amused. The car was getting hot and stuffy and Baby Z was getting fidgety. With no sign of traffic moving this was not hopeful.
All I could think was “why is it not moving? It can’t be an accident, there’s nothing on the radio, come onnnnnnn!”
Then, just like I suspected, it happened. There was shuffling, and sighing, and grumbling. Then more desperate shuffling. Then there were cries of frustration, rattiness and more sighing. The grumbling got louder and louder till it peaked into tantrum like shouting.
Then I finally gave in, accepted we weren’t moving anywhere fast and pulled myself together.
Baby Z, on the other hand, was surprisingly not too bad. An episode of Balamory kept him amused for most of the time we were stuck before he had his own little paddy but was mostly quite composed.
We finally got to my mums at 9.30 and I handed over a smiley Baby Z who had spent the remainder of the car journey covering both himself and his car seat in milk.
Bloody rush hour traffic.