I keep driving my kids up and down the Australian East coast.
I know it's mad. But I keep doing it.
Tomorrow we head south. In an (possibly useless) attempt to save money, I am driving my three offspring to Melbourne. In one day. Not just Melbourne, Barwon Heads.
You see, we're about to renovate (newsflash!). And I just couldn't justify airfares for all of us. But I really wanted to go. So this was the solution. It seemed a great idea in November.
Anyway, getting all four of us to the airport, onto a plane and off again is really a drag. I'd rather drive.
Mike will fly in to Avalon airport on Friday after work and spend just over 24 hours with us before we head north (together) on Sunday. I call the drive: quality time.
I don't know where Barwon Heads is exactly. Thanks to one of my Coastrek mates who showed me a map of Port Melbourne on her iphone at dinner last week, I have a rough idea.
And in 24 hours I expect to be there. Such adventure.
And based on her recent behaviour, mine is still quite unfathomable. Pre teen hormones anyone?
I have snacks, I have DVDs, I have Harry Potter 3 and 4 read by Stephen Fry. I have a new song playlist and lots of fruit. I am not against McDonalds.
I have promised to stop at Holbrook to see the submarine buried in the ground. I still don't know why it's there.
I may not stop to see the dog on the Tuckerbox but it may just prove irresistible.
|We've already been. Do we have to go again?|
|Cheese. Not chicken.|