For every trip, I forget something essential. You would think that I would eventually make a list, or at least borrow my mother's List Of Everything, but no, every year, it's like a package to open in those first five hours of a car trip, going through in my head all of the things that are in the van and all of the things that aren't.
This year, I forgot soap. And shampoo. And a backpack or anything besides a laundry basket to carry water and snacks in when we hiked. And our camping journal, a notebook of all the places we've been on our road trips, the things we ate, the things we cooked and at the end of each day, everyone's favorite part of the day. Another thing that needs to be transcribed from crumpled up napkins that I'm still finding in the crevices of my minivan.
But there is one thing that I didn't forget, that I didn't forget on every hike we took. It's something that I actually carry in my purse all the time. It's a travel Q-tip container that has been emptied of it's Q-tips. Inside, I carry little alcohol wipes, some neosporin packets and assorted Band-aids. It's a perfect size, and it has the ability to halt crying children in their tracks simply by pulling it out.
Each person in the family had a chance to benefit from my little tiny first aid kit. Sarge was first, when the mean rock at the aquarium jumped out from behind a fish tank and bit his knee.
Then the middle child, then the youngest. The oldest got two bandaids and cream when fell in the water, hurt his pride, his foot and dislocated his baby toenail from it's rightful place. I explained each time that true adventurers always had bloody knees.
It was also then that I told them that they were to stop hurting themselves, that I was almost out of alcohol wipes. Fortunately the trip was almost over when I maimed myself while trying valiantly to rescue a mini-golf ball. It was a heroic effort, and the news was nearly called, until I discovered that they'd probably rather interview the guy who rescued the same ball from bouncing across the parking lot. Or Sarge, who rescued the ball the second time from the parking lot. We won't say who had the runaway ball, because it's my blog and I'd like to protect my image, thankyouverymuch.
I highly recommend my rescue kit to all with children. It saves lots of pain in your ears AND extra emergency trips to the bathroom to wash owies.