Jeff, Biscuit and I took a quick trip to Georgia for my family reunion last weekend. We drove 6 1/2 hours down on Saturday, had the reunion on Sunday, then drove 6 1/2 hours back home on Monday. It was a quick trip, but I'm glad we went.
This year was the 46th year of that reunion. It started with my Granny (my Mama's Mama) and her siblings. There were 12 siblings -- 6 girls and 6 boys. So by the time they had children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and now, even some great-great-grandchildren, the reunion turned into quite the event. Back in its hey-day, there would be about 200 people there. It was pretty cool to look around and realize that either through blood or marriage, I was kin to everybody there.
Now, there's only one of the original 12 siblings left. My Granny died in 2009 leaving her younger sister as the last one. Only about 50 or so people were at the reunion this year. The reunion is always the same weekend every year, and it's always at the same state park. So it's frustrating to me that there are a bunch of people who live within a couple of hours of the park who don't bother coming. It just seems like there are fewer and fewer people there each year. And that's sad because I wanted Biscuit to have the experience of being around his extended family.
But I guess we'll just keep going and see what happens.
I can say that this year, Biscuit held court. Mama set him up on a picnic table, and he sang and said his ABCs and counted in English and Spanish and held conversations with everybody who came by. They all got a kick out of him. Jeff and I just sat there and watched as Mama showed him off. And of course, it made us very proud that everybody was making a fuss over him.
My aunt (Mama's sister) has the thickest Georgia drawl you've ever heard. She makes Paula Deen sound like she's from the city. She said she could listen to Biscuit talk all day long. "Kim, it's scary how smart that baby is," she said. Well, actually, there were many more syllables to it when she said it. It was more like, "Kiiiiiii-um, it's scary how smaaaaaart that bay-bee i-uhs."
We spent the first night in the same hotel as my brother, sister-in-law and their kids. They love Biscuit, and Biscuit loves them. When we were a few hours into our drive, Biscuit said, "We go home, Mom?" I told him we were going to see our family, and he started naming over everybody. "We go see all my peoples, Mom." It tickles me every time he says that. Biscuit has no idea how many "peoples" he actually has.
Our hotel room had two queen-size beds, so Jeff slept in one bed, and Biscuit and I slept in the other. We have a cool little fold-up cot for him to sleep on, but I figured he might sleep better if he was with me. I was afraid he might roll off the bed, so I backed a chair up against the edge of the bed on his side. About 3:30 a.m., I heard this tiny, sleepy, little voice say, "OH NO!" My eyes flew open just in time to see Biscuit starting to slide between the bed and the chair. I grabbed his arm, dragged him over to my side of the bed, cuddled him close and told him he was okay. He went back to sleep within seconds, but I wasn't so lucky. At that point, my adrenaline was pumping. I took catnaps from then until dawn. I'm not a coffee drinker, but as sleepy as I was the next morning, I seriously considered getting a cup at the continental breakfast the hotel laid out.
We spent the second night at my uncle's house, where my parents were staying. My uncle has a small dog who isn't used to being around kids, so we had to keep Biscuit and the dog separated. Biscuit wanted so badly to play with the dog, but I kept telling him that the dog didn't know how to play with little boys and might get too rough. The dog's name is Luke, but instead of the "L" sound, Biscuit uses a "W." So he spent the entire day saying things like, "No bark, Wuke," "Go outside, Wuke" or "Wuke pway with his toy."
We left Monday about 11 a.m. We stopped and had lunch in Griffin, the town Biscuit was named after. As we were driving through Atlanta, I was trying to point out the tall buildings and some of the cool signs, but Biscuit was fascinated with the "tunnels." That's how he referred to the overpasses. Most of them are several lanes wide or either have covered walkways on them, so I guess they are sort of like tunnels. They're wide enough that they have lights mounted on the side walls. "Tunnels, Mom!" he said. "And another tunnel and another tunnel and another tunnel, Mom!"
The majority of our drive is on I-85, so we saw lots of 18-wheelers along the way. "Look at truck's whistle, Mom," Biscuit said. Whistle? I couldn't figure out what he was talking about. Then finally, Jeff said, "I think he's talking about the exhaust pipes on either side of the truck's cab. They're like train whistles." Sure enough, as we questioned him more about it, that's exactly what he was talking about.
Biscuit was so good during our whole trip. There were a couple of whining incidents but no big meltdowns or tantrums. He was also good in the car. I hear about some kids who fight tooth and nail about getting in their car seats, but we've been lucky so far. Of course, with Jeff and me both being car people, maybe Biscuit is just excited about getting to be in the car, regardless of being strapped into his seat.
We all slept so well Monday night. It's fun to travel, and it's really good to see family, but there is nothing like getting back home and crawling into your very own bed.
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