Visiting Whine Country

We tried desperately to take the exit ramp to Napper Valley. Unfortunately, much to the chagrin of all those strapped into the car and unable to escape the madness, we had Passed Go and were rapidly approaching Whine Country.

He took my toy! He's touching me! I'm hungry! He kicked me! I don't want to stay in my seatbelt! You said we would be there soon!

Once there, it's hard to leave calmly.

I'm going to pull over and give both of you a what-for!

Or rationally.

If I hear one more complaint from you, I'm leaving both of you on the side of the road.



Or gracefully.


Or at all.


There ought to be a law, or a Pavlovian command, or a restraint system...


But there isn't.

So I push the needle just a bit, and crank the music, and throw Cheddar Bunnies in their general direction, and threaten to throw whatever toys are being bickered over out the window. And then, when that doesn't work, because it doesn't ever really work, I grab the actual toy and open the window, from which I dangle the poor, unsuspecting Bakugan, whose short life is about to be pitiably and ignominiously snuffed on I-87.

AND THEN, when an imminent and hideous death is in the offing for whatever molded plastic piece of crap is the latest obsession, THEN the spawn decide that they will set aside their differences. For the sake of the Bakugan/Pokemon/Transformer, they will accept my terms for a peace treaty and stop fighting for as long as it takes to get to the next impasse, at which point there will hopefully be a McDonald's.