Toddler travel terror
Do toddlers have psychic powers? Do they sense that they’re about to be strapped into their little seats for eternity? Meg must have because half an hour in it was all on. So we stopped often. At Opotiki, where all the action was outside the courthouse, and at every little town with a half decent looking café.
By 4pm we were popping Panadol and I was in the back re-reading aloud all the stories in the distraction bag.
We finally hit south Auckland at 5pm, right on crunch-time. The traffic was heaving and we were hungry; I have never been so pleased to see a shopping mall. Westfield Manukau loomed in the half-dark like a massive rescue boat.
Meg merrily bounced through the shops. We wolfed curry and took turns keeping track of her.
One wedding and one recovery day later, we faced the mortifying prospect of getting back in the car until Meg’s grandmother, a font of wisdom, suggested driving at night. Genius. Six hours on quiet roads with just the ambient murmur of National Radio’s Soounds Historrical for company.
Night riding – it’s the only way to travel.
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