Kid Trip:Consolidation exercise (from 2645 words to 500)

We've been inside all weekend, we need exercise. Desmond, who is five, is interested. I work on the remaining family.

“I need to study.” my husband Jordan says, (he's a student) although he's been studying for days and although he's actually watching a video with Lillian, who is three. Each try to get him to garden or play: that bothered response “I need to study”

“Well, if we are such a bother for you, maybe we should leave for a few days, let you study without any distractions!”

Then, a glimmer in Jordan's eye, I see he likes the idea. Now, I'm more irritated. In a moment, our trip is conceived. Ranting and packing I assemble an assortment of gear for a trip of undetermined length. By 9:00 on a Sunday night, we head out.

At a loss as to where to go, I turn into Macdonald's, buy two ice cream cones and hand them back, my children delighted at this departure from normal restraint. Without much analysis I choose North. I call Jordan. Has my parting left us estranged? Does he want to know when we'll return?

“I trust you will return when you're ready and have gotten what you left for.”

Oh, that's nice...

After that conversation, I now look forward... into lights of cars heading back into the city and into lights of meteors to the north. I finally give in and stop at a hotel. I carry sleeping beauties into beds. In the morning after tea, apples and peanuts we set out to see what we can see.

Until a week ago I worked full time at a job that wasn't quite right. Ive lost touch with my kids, they, habitually calling me daddy when they have needs or questions. It is time to reconnect.

We settle on our quest, the fabled white sands of New Zealand's Northlands. I make an adjustment to my definition of travel. Stopping frequently, we enjoy old train skeletons and nosy birds at playgrounds. No one (but me) notices we have no clean clothes or haven't had a coffee for three days. The air conditioner gives up, we drive the remainder of the trip windows down, adding a safari feel to the trip and to our hairdos. We discover perfect oranges and tiny strawberry apples; though, never taste a single Northland wine. Searching for the white sands we befriend locals and travelers. Finally, we see the sands; beautiful, eerily gleaming, accessible only by sea. It doesn't bother anyone that we can't go there. Conversations are spontaneous, a schedule insignificant. We frolic in the waves. Lilly finds a dead shark with a fishing line in it's mouth. She roams the surf, as if she's walking her pet shark. Dozens of tourists from buses on short stops converse with her about it. I celebrate our eccentricity. We celebrate ourselves. We never got that exercise, but I don't mind.