How road trip I spy game be­came race to the bot­tom

Pilbara News - - Lifestyle - Karen Han­cock

We all love road trips and, with four boys, ad­ven­ture can be found on even the short­est of jour­neys.

One jour­ney be­gan with an ur­gent need of 50-cent ice-cream cones. It was late, and we all needed some sweet de­li­cious­ness to end the night.

Now, apart from road safety and seat­belts, the main fo­cus of my car jour­neys in­volves try­ing to not let the boys kill each other.

I have many ran­dom strate­gies to dis­tract from hit­ting, pok­ing and lick­ing.

Some­times I pre­tend to spot ran­dom wildlife; “look there boys — I think I saw an ele­phant” some­times works.

Other times I sing pop­u­lar melodies to made-up lyrics, and in our car if you put the word poo in, you are guar­an­teed a laugh or two.

A fi­nal re­sort is the world renowned “I spy” which also works a treat.

It does, how­ever, help if ev­ery­one knows how to spell. We had one game last about 28 min­utes. We were try­ing to guess some­thing be­gin­ning with “A”… it was fire.

So this par­tic­u­lar night we were cruis­ing the streets play­ing I spy. The let­ter was “A”, again, and we were all stumped.

As­tro­naut? Aero­plane? Ap­ple? You name it we were guess­ing it.

We weren’t even close though. So I sug­gested Aubrey give us all a wee lit­tle clue. “It’s ev­ery­where,” he quipped. From the back depths of the car Chuck al­most jumped out of his seat.

He knew it, and was about to be­come the I spy cham­pion. “A*****” he tri­umphantly ex­claimed.

I al­most drove off the road. Well yes, they are ev­ery­where but I don’t quite think that was what Aubrey was spy­ing.

Aubrey shouted in dis­gust, “Air guys, air is ev­ery­where.”

With tears run­ning down my face from laugh­ing way too hard, I slowly drove home.

This time there were no games, merely me try­ing to ex­plain to Rusty, 4, at the time, and Nip­per, 6, what an a*** was, and could we please not tell Grandad, who was vis­it­ing, about them.

Four ex­tra trips round the block and we fi­nally made it home. Karen Han­cock has five boys, in­clud­ing her hus­band, one cat, two dogs, a galah, and nu­mer­ous fish. She en­joys hunt­ing for muddy pud­dles, trop­i­cal storms, wrestling her chil­dren and laun­dry. She also writes a col­umn for a news­pa­per.

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