By Any Other Name

My husband and I, along with our son, went on a mini-vacation this past week. We drove to Grapevine, Texas, where I was supposed to attend a special luncheon. This was Zane's very first extended car trip. The drive up was relatively uneventful. We had borrowed a friend's portable dvd player, and Zane was occupied with that most of the way. Except for the fact that he only wanted to watch ONE movie over and over and over and over(to be fair, the movie does have Nathan Fillion in it).

We had a lovely time. We stayed at the Comfort Suites, which I highly recommend. While I went to the sixtieth anniversary luncheon for my bestie's parents, Zane and Larry rode the train at Grapevine and had a great time. We all went to a free concert in Arlington to see the Kildares, who play a rock-ish type of music with a fiddle and bagpipes. There were other things we wanted to do, but since we were vacationing, none of us were upset that we didn't get to them. We packed up all our stuff in preparation for the next day.

Today we traveled home. We only watched the movie once, and then the dvd was turned off so it "could take a nap". So there was a bit of quiet.

And so it was that the horror began.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Zane?"

"What's your name?"

"It's Daddy."


Pause.


"Mama?"

"Yep?"

"What's your name?"

"My name is Mama."


Pause.


"Daddy, what's your name?"

"It's still Daddy."


Pause.


"Mama, what's your name?"

"Mama."


Pause.


"Daddy?"

"Yes Son?"

"What's your name?"

"What was my name the last time you asked?"

"Daddy."

"Daddy is still my name."


Pause.


"Mama?"

"What do you need, son?"

"What is your name?"

"I don't know. What is my name?"

"You're Mama."

"Oh Thank you son! I was worried."


Pause.


"Daddy, what's your name?"

"Same as it was the last six times you asked, Zane. It's Daddy."


Pause.


"Mama?"

"Yes?"

"What's your name, Mama?"

"Fred."

"That not your name, Mama!"

"It's not?"

"No! You Mama!"

"Oh. Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"But if you knew my name is Mama, why did you ask me to tell you my name?" Even as I asked the question, I could see Larry gesturing me to shut my mouth. Of course my question led to another two or three rounds.

These lovely interchanges occurred, on average, every three minutes, for FIVE hours.
I suppose that this is a variation of the time honored "Are we there yet?" that all children begin asking within a four mile radius of a car. We tried distraction, we tried bribery, we eventually attempted threats. Nothing worked. We were stuck. We did try to respond politely to his questions, and model appropriate behavior. By the time we got home, however, both Larry and I were ready to find a large rock and beat our heads against it.