This could be the last installment:
“Pull over!” I finally demanded.
“Can you wait ten minutes,” my husband asked. Even though he was aware of what had just happened, he really had no idea!
“No! There is barf everywhere! Take the next exit…NOW!”
“But there isn’t a rest stop here,” he started to reason.
“Take it!” I begged
I had no idea what we would do once we pulled over, but it quickly became clear that everyone needed to get out of the car and several of us would have to be changed. I started delegating tasks to my husband and reached under the seat to grab one of the 3 large packages of wet wipes my husband had insisted on bringing, bless his heart!
I am convinced there is a special place in heaven for the inventor of wet wipes. After effortlessly blowing through around 35 I started to make the final sweep, inspecting the creases of the seats, the cracks in the plastic molding and even the water bottles I’d lovingly placed in the back seat organizers. I pulled out 3 or 4 more wet wipes and scrubbed hard on the carpet, just for good measure. I thought I could even see the purple stain of grape barf slowly start to fade. It was going to be alright, I thought.
Back on the road, I figured we could do a little laundry to purge ourselves of the final bits of barfy evidence when we arrived at the first overnight stop in our journey: my sister’s central California home. However, the thought suddenly occurred to me that she may not want a car load of sickies infecting her young family of 4.
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