Four Wisemen And A Fifth

Loading the minivan and trekking to Grandma's for Christmas used to put me in shepherd mode. I would squeeze mystery packages into the back, herd Birdie and Daisy into their carseats and Big Guy would check the tire pressure one more time. Some years, the flock didn't even ask where we were going; they had no vote on our lunch stop and offered no helpful driving hints. Now we are four wisemen and a fifth. The fifth being the blind, gassy dog Chuck.Travel involves checking four calendars to be sure we are set to depart; the Christmas packages are much closer to gold than playdough; and there's near constant negotiating over air temperature, singing vs. sleeping and if one wiseman's foot is trespassing into another wiseman's territory. With four wisemen, "following yonder star" gets old, fast. Especially with the gas. While I suspect the only truly happy wiseman was the one on the lead camel, Chuck's silent but deadly approach affects each wiseman equally. We groan. We roll down the windows. Three out of four wisemen glare at the blissfully sleeping offender. When the air clears and the windows are rolled up, we wisely agree: Where our hearts are is where we'll find our Christmas, so yes, we'll endure just about anything to make our visit to Grandma. And next car trip, the dog rides on the roof.