It’s Saturday
And I am parked beside the road
Engaged in a showdown
With my daughter

“I don’t know if you know this, but
You get your stubbornness from me and
We will sit here till the moon comes out if
That’s how long it takes you to buckle your seatbelt.”
She stares at me. I stare at her. 
She wails.
I wish I had brought a book. 
Later, driving, the toddler announces 
He has to use the bathroom. 
Actually what he yells is,
“Gotta pee!” in urgent tones.

Suddenly I am a bandit, speeding downtown
I find a place to pull over.
There is no bathroom,
But there is a parking lot with some grass,
And a boy with a small bladder, 

And a mother with no sense
Of common decency anymore
Later, on the road again,
The eldest child is in control of the radio
He is playing Crazy Train.
“I like this song alright,” he says.

“Ozzy Osbourne used to
Bite the heads off live bats,”
I say before thinking.
He drops his beyblade out the window

He was going to find out 
Eventually, I console myself
As we turn back to get the toy.

Still later, still driving, my second son 
Has licked his ice cream 
Into a particular kind of swoop 
That looks like a child’s neatly groomed

And slicked-back head
from the 1950’s.
“Look mom,” he shows me,
“Georgie brushed his hair today!” 
I pull over, laughing too hard to drive.
It takes us forever to get anywhere
but it’s always an interesting time.