Elliot and I are heading out to Chicago and staying with my parents for a couple of days. The main reason for the trip is to attend the Quilt Expo with my mom and to just get away for a couple of days.
I'm 90% sure it'll be a good weekend. 90% is knowing that Elliot and I will be fine, and have fun, once we get there. That last 10% (it's a small number, right?) is the actual trip. I see it going one of two ways:
- Elliot sleeps for a bit, zones out a little, reads books and has a dialogue with me about the things he sees along the interstate. Fine and dandy, other than the onslaught of children's music.
- Knowing we're essentially only driving through Iowa, he's going to get bored talking about barns and cows and will revolt. The second we get out of the car for a potty break he'll tear off through the fields screaming 'Freedom! Freedom at last!' and refuse to come back. He'll then show up at Fred's desk at work telling him what a horrendous experience it was and how he 'not loves' his mommy any more. Then I will cry.
If it doesn't go swimmingly, I plan to blame my dad. He's the one that begged me - via 837 text messages - to bring Elliot along.