The drive across Ohio is vastly improved by total darkness.
Indiana also sucks but at least they let you drive 70 so in the battle of things I hate slightly less than other things, Indiana wins.
Midwestern two-year-olds are easily impressed by the Berkshire "mountains", the only prior mountain experiences having come from watching Dora.
Dora is also the reason two toddlers will fight over who gets to hold the tour map at a historical reenactment place that they otherwise have little to no interest in.
Orange juice barf smells infinitely better thank milk-based barf. This is a godsend if you are going to spend the next 16 hours in the confined space in which a child has just vomited.
While I am apparently too old to stay up drinking beer past 9:30, I am apparently not too old to think that my car's odometer reading 8008 is hilarious.
No matter what age, a euphemistic discussion of your brother's sex life is always revolting.
When driving from east to west at a consistent rate of speed, you are never more than five minutes from hearing Lady Gaga on the radio.
A lamb being birthed is kind of gross. Lamb afterbirth is even grosser.
The size of the tip is exponentially related to the number of toddlers at a restaurant table.
Nothing can persuade a potty training toddler to go on the toilet like a rest stop bathroom.
When in Westfield I revert to my old high school coping mechanism -- eating. Though now it's without the benefit of a forced exercise regimen, also know as competitive youth sports, to keep me thin.
Still, two trips to Friendly's in two days is never not a good idea. Did I tell you about the deer?