The Tarp

Have you ever heard someone say, “If I had my life to live all over again, I wouldn’t do anything differently?” I can’t relate. For instance, I would have would have joined the boy scouts, or I would have at least learned to tie a good knot.

Here’s the story: We decided to tie Ethan’s crib and mattress to the top of our car and take them with us to Chicago. Little did I think that hurricane-force highway winds and rain would be a problem, which is probably why Mr. Bush didn’t ask me to head FEMA. Halfway though our more than one thousand-mile trip, the plastic that the mattress was wrapped in was beginning to get shredded in the front, maybe from bugs or debris being pelted into it, and it looked like we needed to buy a tarp. Fortunately, the truck stop where we had stopped to have dinner had a tarp, but after about an hour driving, it was tattered and leaking like a sieve. So we bought another, heavy-duty tarp. Apparently, I didn’t get my dad’s knot-tying genes, so by the time we made it to our new apartment, the ties had come undone and the tarp was hanging on the side of our van, slapping the window and puzzling Ethan, who stared at it in frightful awe. Well, it turned out that the crib and mattress did get a little wet, but only a little – Ethan’s asleep on them right now. Nevertheless, I hereby follow Michael Brown’s lead and officially resign, as the tarpist that is, at least until I learn to tie a decent knot. On our drive through mile after mile of cow country, Roseli concluded that utter (or udder) boredom must be the cause of mad-cow disease. If all you did was eat grass, she would go mad, too.

Turning now to news with Ethan, he pooed in Iowa, which was cause for great rejoicing for Roseli, who in Ethan’s first year was obsessed with the idea that Ethan was constantly constipated. He’s been a great traveler, and uncommonly happy, singing and talking most of the time. Even after two days of traveling in the car, he was ready to get back in the car for another ride when we left to buy groceries.