Feb 08
18
Auto Show, take 2
Posted by Stephen18
Tags: Daniel, event, faith, father-son, fun, Joel, prayer
I took the boys to the Auto Show today. I went with Daniel last year and he really enjoyed it. He’d been looking forward to it again this year. I wasn’t sure whether to take Joel. Daniel had been talking about it for weeks, but Joel hadn’t even asked if he would or could go. Joel (2) is currently in that gray area of potty training, somewhere between wearing diapers and being fully toilet-trained. I didn’t know how safe he’d be in an unfamiliar environment with so many distractions.
I decided to take both boys. We set off with a backpack full of spare clothing and a packed lunch. Daniel and Joel were in high spirits, on an adventure, chatting about anything and everything, pleased to have Dad’s undivided attention. It was an hour’s drive to the show, and as we were driving along the highway into the downtown area, slowing with congested traffic, Joel says softly, “I need to pee.”
Oh no.
No easy way to get off the highway. And once off, no convenient place to stop, no quick place to park, and certainly no accessible toilet facilities. This was downtown, a concrete jungle of steel and glass high-rises. And traffic. What was I going to do?
We were only one exit away from our destination, so I asked Joel to hold on and calmly shifted lanes. About half a mile from the exit traffic slowed to a crawl. Everybody wanted to get off at this exit. There was nothing to do but wait. And hope. Once we got off the highway onto city streets I drove around looking for somewhere to park. The parking lots I knew about were all full. Everybody had come to the show. There was only one that had room, so I pulled in. The sign said $30. Thirty dollars! Highway robbery. I drove back out to the street. Joel was quite insistent now. He really needed to pee and he’d been dutifully holding on for a while. Please, Lord, let us find a place to stop. I found a quiet side street, industrial, derelict, lined with broken windows and abandoned vehicles, and pulled over. Not the best place to stop, but there was nobody in sight on this cold winter morning. I helped Joel pee in the gutter and we were shortly on our way, looking for parking. First emergency successfully over. Prayer answered.
I eventually found an underground garage beneath the show itself, advertised for $15. Half-price! And we couldn’t be any closer. Perfect! Besides, the boys like parking garages. Second not-quite-an-emergency successfully solved, and definitely an answer to my unspoken prayer. I had hoped there would be internal access, but no such luck. We went up multiple stairwells and were disgorged onto the street. We followed the crowds to the closest entrance, though “close” was relative. I picked Joel up and carried him for the sake of expediency. Daniel can move quickly and has no problems keeping up if I need to stride.
We found the ticket counter and lined up. Someone had thoughtfully provided a tent to keep out the wind, so it wasn’t too cold standing in line outside. The boys, of course, were raring to go, tugging at my hands and chafing at the delay. In due course we bought our tickets and went in. Total elapsed time to find parking and buy tickets: one hour.
I took our coats off and rolled them under my arm. It was warm in there. Now I had a new dilemma. I was carrying a backpack, three bulky winter coats, and needed two free hands to hold on to excited boys in a thronging crowd. I needed to get rid of the coats. One of the things Daniel enjoyed most about last year’s Auto Show was climbing into car trunks. He made a beeline for the first open lid he saw. It was a hatchback, so I lifted both boys in and took advantage of the lull to do a better job of rolling up the coats. Not bad, but still unwieldy. I stood up and bumped into Tracey, a good friend. She was there as a representative for Honda. We’d only been at the show thirty seconds and already my coat problem was solved. Thank you Lord!
Tracey showed us where we could store our coats in Honda’s employee room. She showed us a nice quiet area where we could eat our lunch, away from the pressing crowds. She stayed and chatted for a while, keeping the kids occupied while I made sandwiches. She was a real Godsend.
We set out after lunch, light and unencumbered, fortified by food and drink. The boys had one goal: to systematically climb into and explore every single vehicle on the several acres of the show floor. I wanted to skim as much of the show as possible and I wanted the kids to experience different vehicle types. So we settled on walking interspersed with exploring. I lifted them onto pickup truck beds and they jumped off the tailgates. They climbed into SUVs and discovered that the back row of seats could be lowered, allowing uninterrupted access from the cargo area all the way to the front. They investigated cup-holders, played with vent louvers, pulled down sun shades, tugged on gear shift levers, pushed every single button in sight. Daniel always ended up in the driver’s seat, Joel always ended up in the front passenger seat. Neither wanted to try out the other position. Thus, through no effort of my own, the boys spent the day in harmony with one another. Before setting out this morning the three of us had specifically prayed about getting along together. Yet another prayer answered. What are we up to now? Four?
The Auto Show was housed in three buildings, connected by tunnels and walkways. We’d started out at one end and made our way to the second, then third building. I carried Joel through the tunnels to get us there quicker, and because there was nothing to see. Otherwise he walked. Daniel did all his own walking himself. At one point he called out, “There’s Bumblebee!” He’d recognized the new model of Chevy Camaro that featured in the Transformers movie. I’d shown him clips from the movie last year. Cars were clustered closely together on the show floor, and Daniel’s height puts him at eye level with everybody’s butts. A small boy in a forest of densely-packed adults. I don’t know how he managed to pick the car out, but he did. He was pleased with himself.
In building three we came to the off-road motorcycle and snowmobile section. Daniel had been looking forward to this as well, and would have spent an hour there if I’d let him. He climbed on snowmobiles, pretended to drive, tested all the buttons, tried to remove the cowling to look at the engine. From there to motocross bikes, some of them exactly his size. They were clamped to the floor, so he could climb aboard and ride down the trail in his mind’s eye. He was far away in his day-dreams. Joel was not interested in the slightest. So while I was making sure Daniel didn’t fall off a motorcycle I also had to prevent Joel from wandering off down the hall. In the end we didn’t dally long enough for Daniel, but we stayed way too long for Joel.
By the time we got to the end of our circuit all three of us were tired out. The buildings were arranged in a circle, and the first building we’d started out from was just a short walk away. Outdoors. In the freezing wind. And we had no coats. So we retraced our steps and made the long trek back to our starting point. It was slow going because of frequent stops to climb into this or that vehicle. At one point we came to an army booth and the boys got to wind a big field gun up and down. They also had a fighter jet cockpit the boys sat in. More levers to pull! More buttons to push! I was exhausted by now. Where did these boys get the energy?
We finally arrived back at the Honda stand where our stuff was stored, when Joel said, “I need to pee.” Sigh. We walked all the way back across the huge, warehouse-like building to where we’d just come from, where the toilets were. I guess it serves me right for not being vigilant and taking toilet stops when convenient, instead of when necessary. Once the boys were done we walked back to Honda, collected our stuff, said goodbye to Tracey, and left.
I found an elevator down to the parking lot and started walking along rows and rows of cars. None of this looked familiar. The boys wanted to know how much further to our car. I told them it was probably a long walk. They both groaned and wilted on the spot. This was a vast complex. How was I going to find our car with two small boys? I prayed out loud for help. Immediately I saw an open door with a light on, a changing room for parking attendants. I poked my head in and asked for help. An elderly gentleman offer to show us the way. He walked us down corridors, up elevators, through connecting buildings, and outside. He pointed to the door to our section of the parking garage. We walked across the concourse, through the door, down some stairs, and there was our car. I breathed a prayer of gratitude.
In all this time, the boys hadn’t stopped talking. They’d chatted non-stop since leaving home this morning. We drove up and out of the garage, merging with the downtown flow. I had to make my way across several lanes of bumper-to-bumper traffic and onto a crowded highway. I was weary, hungry, very thirsty, and had to really concentrate on driving. This didn’t hold the boys back. Every now and then Joel would pipe up, “Papa, Daniel asked you a question. Are you going to answer him?” Such a considerate boy, looking out for his brother’s interests. I tried to explain how my mind was fully occupied in getting us home safely and I couldn’t talk right now, but Joel wouldn’t be put off so easily. Somehow I managed to drive, listen and talk all at the same time.
We arrived home right at dinnertime. I put the boys straight into the bath and then into pajamas before sitting down to eat. We’d made it through a long day with no arguments, no fights, no tantrums, no angry words. I’d had many prayers answered on the spot. It was a very good day.
The Cerulean Sanctum blog had a very appropriate quote from R. A. Torrey, Dwight Moody
