Story time on the road

ST. LOUIS, Missouri—On this tour, we spend many hours traveling, by plane or by car (for the crew, by bus). We spend many hours packing, hauling carry-ons, trying not to make our suitcases heavier than they already are. Tonight, instead of preparing for a flight in the morning, we took a long drive from the Murat Theater in Indianapolis directly to our hotel here. The time zone switched from Eastern to Central, moving back one hour.

The journey lasted a few hours… and what could two people—Nic and myself—do while driving in the dead of night? We talked. Sure, she had her iPad and watched a few Minecraft tutorials. When she was done with that, the only thing she wanted to do was talk. So, that’s what we did.

Baby stories

She wanted to know what she was like as a baby. I told her what I could remember.

I told her about the day she was born, a chubby-cheeked package that weighed a little less than seven pounds; about her going through phototherapy due to elevated bilirubin levels in her blood; about me attempting to breast-feed her. I told her about her first 24 hours at home, how quiet she was during the day, but how she kept us up all night, until she finally fell asleep past 5 a.m. after letting go of a gas bubble stuck in her little stomach.

I told her what it was like being pregnant with her, how I knew even before getting confirmation. At lunch with a friend, a dish that I normally would plunge into was suddenly repulsive. Pasta with crab fat—the smell, the taste, normally a temptation—I pushed it away. I recounted how I spat out toothpaste that I used to think was yummy but suddenly tasted like crud, how the only things that tasted good were lemons with salt and McDonald’s fries. She asked about her first birthday; I told her we spent it at Ruby Woo’s near Times Square with a few friends.

Explosive

I told her about a diaper explosion early on in her life. Her lola and I had headed out for a couple of hours and she was left at home with her dad. As my mom and I were heading back, my cell phone rang. It was Rob. “Honey, are you coming home?” “Yeah, just left the party. Why?” “Uh, well… the baby exploded.”

(Thank goodness she was breastfed; the carnage didn’t smell too bad. It makes us laugh now, but it wasn’t funny at the time.)

Speaking of which… Nic and I make each other laugh on the road. She likes it when I pretend to be a baby that can talk, giving attitude about wet diapers, formula, and being hungry. It’s something she requests when she’s sad, or bored, or carsick. In turn, she talks about her Minecraft adventures and her fashion designing apps.

She has strong opinions about bullies and bullying. She thinks bullies are weak, and that the best way to be strong is to be good to other people. She loves her friends, and talks about times they cried together and laughed together.

Next thing we knew, we had arrived at our destination, our hotel very close to the famous St. Louis arch.

***

As I write, my articulate young companion is fast asleep beside me, cuddled close under the covers. Every day, I thank the universe for the blessing of time spent with my awesome little girl.