Dear Thatcher / Trips home

Now that we are a family of four, our trips home look a tad different.

Tobias stakes claim on Daddy's lap as usual, while I take the backseat to tend to your needs. This usually consists of me putting your pacifier back in your mouth for the millionth time.
As of now you sleep through the majority of our drives. This is usually when I am able to fit in a knitting session while I pump. Free time is a luxury these days.
But when we reach the private gravel road, all bets are off. Years of weather and driving has wreaked havoc in this little neck of the woods. 
You usually look at me with the utmost confusion. You're probably wondering why you're being subjected to such chaos as your little head bobs with the craters. Sometimes you start to protest, contorting your face out of it's usually curious expression. 
One day you will enjoy this drive more. You will think the bumps are for your personal amusement, and will squeal with delight when we race through a deep puddle, causing a wall of muddy water to drench the windows. Most moms would roll their eyes or scold the driver for causing such a mess, but I won't. I can't wait to relive my childhood through yours, to see pure joy and wonder in the mundane. One day you'll laugh, but for now you'll cry...
And if we're lucky, you'll sleep.