Nowadays, my rolling fortress of solitude is more of a mobile torture chamber. No one sleeps now. And, not only do they not sleep, they argue, and it's normally about something important and requiring high volume like "my piece of pink Trident is the tastiest!" or "I am not going to play puppy dog anymore so stop trying to give me pretend dog biscuits!" or "He got to see the helicopter and I didn't! You HAVE to turn around, Mom!"
Music soothes the savage beast, right? Um, no. My kids "take turns" choosing which song to play on the iPod. This consists of first, an argument about who's turn it is to choose the first song. Then, once they have established the order in which they choose and their choice has been made, the song begins. Now the chooser of song begins spouting off the rules which usually include several of the following:
- Only the chooser may sing
- I can sing and you can ONLY play the air drums
- Absolutely no singing and no air drumming
- There's no dancing
- There is no silently mouthing the words
So, you ask, why don't I just turn off the music completely, right? When the music is off, the atmosphere consists of arguing about other topics, such as who can and who cannot kick the back of the seats, as in, 'the one in front of me is empty so I CAN.' (Of course, Chuckles sits behind me and is particularly fond of this game.) Or, if they are not arguing, someone is putting on an elaborate show that inevitably leads to a request for approval, as in, 'Look Mom, I've tied myself up in silly bands!' These actions, if acknowledged in any form, require that the others must outperform the performer. Then, the van begins to sound something like this, "Mom look, Mom look, Mom, Mama, Mommy, Mom, Mom, Mommy, Mama, Mommy, Mom, Mommy, Mama! Mama! Mom! Mom! Mom! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! MOMMY! MOM! MOM! MOM! MAMA! MAMA! MAMA! MAMA! MAMA! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM!"
So, what happens when someone is subjected to this torture on a regular basis? Well, those in the greater Indianapolis area may have heard a strange sound Thursday. You see, it was the fourth day of theater camp. It's a 30-minute drive to theater camp which means one solid hour in the car at 8:30am for dropoff and again at 11:30am for pickup. So, at approximately 12:24pm Thursday, my head exploded at the intersection of 465 and Allisonville Road. My apologies to the driver of the black Subaru in the lane next to me as I believe the shrillness of my scream actually cracked his windshield. Birds made emergency landings on the nearest telephone wire, brakelights blinked for miles in either direction, computer connections momentarily froze in nearby offices and my van was filled with a sound I haven't heard in years...silence.