Life in the fast lane

Last weekend, Zdenek and I packed Ryder, a travel crib, and two suitcases worth of bibs, diapers, onesies, rompers, and bottles, and we headed off with good friends to the Poconos in Pennsylvania. Departing NYC in our rental car at 4 pm on a Friday in the summer was a brave (stupid?) move, especially considering that it was in the middle of a record-breaking heat wave. Never mind: we strapped Ryder into his car seat, scattered a few teething toys around him, and hoped for the best.

Despite the heat, the boy handled things pretty well for the first 90 minutes or so. He played with his toys, stared out the window, and eventually dozed off for half an hour. But upon waking, he realized that (a) he was still restrained, (b) it was pretty close to his dinnertime, and (c) it was almost bed time. And that's when the screaming started. Mom and Dad, unaccustomed to traveling with Ryder in a car, didn't know what to do. We were stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic across five lanes, and, according to the map feature on my iPhone, were pretty much going to stay that way for the next 40 minutes. So I headed into the backseat to distract my boy with silly sounds and peek-a-boo, which worked -- for a while. But when Ryder finally decided that he had really had enough (or rather, when we decided that we couldn't handle the screaming anymore), we had to make a quick turn-off to feed him and take a break. He was delighted. Then we strapped him in again, and he screamed the rest of the way to our destination.

I realize that most parents travel everywhere by car with their little ones, and screaming is probably par for the course. But for Zdenek, Ryder, and me, this was a pretty novel experience. I think I've figured out why: Ryder is rarely restrained for more than 15 minutes at a time, and when he is, he's got an impressive number of cars, people, dogs, trees, etc. to entertain him. We go everywhere by foot. He's out our door and at the store within 10 minutes. He's at the Park within 15, and then promptly put on the swing. He never, ever has to wait or sit patiently. For anything. I am sure that New Yorkers' impatience and short fuses are nurtured from birth.

I can only hope that Ryder's detest for sitting idle will some day translate into a super-energetic, over-achieving athleticism. Until then, my little Manhattanite will continue to live life in the fast lane from the comfort of his stroller.