We're driving to Indiana to visit Erika's family for Christmas in 2010, and I plead exhaustion and make Erika drive. For some reason, she thinks it's a good idea to grab fast food for dinner along the way but keep on driving. I disagreed but failed to put up a fight. So our 4-year-old and 2-year-old had cheeseburgers handed to them, in the car, in the dark, with helpless and vague instructions to "be careful."
Casey did all right, but soon enough I checked on Darby to find his dinner missing. Hmm. He's a good eater, but finishing that fast? I was skeptical.
Dad: Darby, did you finish your cheeseburger?Ugh. So in the dark, I fish around in his lap until I find his burger, and that's when I discover he's eaten the top half of the bun and left everything else, so that when I find it in the dark, my fingers squelch unpleasantly into the cheese and ketchup and mustard. That's the last time I asked Erika to drive.
Darby: No.
Dad: Where's your cheeseburger, Darby?
Darby: It's hiding in my pants!
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