I cursed when I found out that our school district reconfigured our afternoon bus route in August, confining my two small children to the social graces of gigantic third-graders for well over an hour on the way home.  I shook with fear when I assumed the bus missed our stop with my precious cargo still inside.  I took matters in my own hands and voila my children were labeled as "pick-ups."  I was bitter.

It was a nightmare as I frequently ran late, either awakening my toddler from her nap or begging her to close her eyes in the car.  We spent more time together as mother with children inside the minivan than in our home.  Sad, I know; but the truth indeed, as everyone runs off to their corners of our massive abode upon arrival home.  The drama inside the van!  The whining!!  The arguing!!!  All while in 350 or so cubic square feet of an entry level cloth-interior Honda.  Fifty days later I realize it's like a blessing in disguise.  Every afternoon I observe my children interact with their peers while I wait in line, I glance in the rear view mirror to ask them about their day, and each day we transport ourselves far away from the country road home to a magical place.

"Look to the left, that empty field is like a meadow in Indiana.  If you look think hard enough you can almost see a group of cows grazing on grass.  Look.... "  Three heads turn to the left.

"On the right is a rest stop along the busy high way."  I point to the gas station on the way home from school.  "The parking lot is full of cars with different licence plates and people are rushing to their next destination.  Where are they going?"

"We are driving close to the train tracks.  Hold on tight!"  I smile as we go over the pot holes and the kids sit upright in their seats in tune with my imagination.

"Getting closer now, much closer to Chicago.  I can see enormous buildings scrapping the sky and reaching the clouds."  I point out how the hundred-year-old trees stand tall in the forest resembling a jungle of city buildings.

And so on. My tall tales capture their imaginations and temporarily silence their cries of boredom.  Yesterday the mundane ride home turned into a re-cap of our adventures in Poland.  Each house became an apartment complex and the sprawling estate on the corner of a nearby street became the Malbork castle.  The week before, Lola took center stage imagining that the bridge over the shallow country river was in-fact the bridge into Manhattan and suddenly my minivan turned into a yellow cab in which I interviewed them in.  "Welcome to my cab.  What's your name?"  They giggled.  The only proof I have of the silliness is what I tucked away in my pocket to pull out when they are older.

I am sure *this* precious time won't last forever (their "must-have" holiday item is the ipod) and that's why I'm bottling *this* up for myself tonight.  I will dip my toes into this magical memory when all three of them are ignoring me for the text messages on their phones.  Because, duh, I will soooooo be driving them to their senior year at Cleveland Country High.  Where they will be labeled as "pick-ups."