Likely Normal

Few phrases strike fear into a parent’s heart like the dreaded “Are we there yet?”—delivered approximately 4.7 minutes into any car ride longer than a grocery store run. It doesn’t matter if you’ve explained the concept of a five-hour drive; to a child, time is an abstract construct that resets every 90 seconds when they ask again, louder and with more existential despair.

The real magic of road trips isn’t the scenic views—it’s the way children transform into tiny, backseat lawyers arguing against the very laws of physics. “Why can’t we just be there?” they demand, as if you’ve been holding out on secret teleportation technology. “How much longer?” they whine, while actively watching the GPS count down the minutes, clearly believing it’s a cruel hoax. The only thing more relentless than their questioning is their ability to sense when you’re almost there, prompting a sudden surge of “I’m hungry/thirsty/need to pee RIGHT NOW” just as the exit ramp appears.

And then there are the car songs—those cursed, repeatable anthems that burrow into your brain like musical parasites. Whether it’s Baby Shark (a war crime in melody form) or the Frozen soundtrack (which turns every parent into Elsa—desperately wishing they could “let it go”), these tunes are engineered to be just annoying enough to make you consider swerving into a ditch, but just catchy enough that you’ll catch yourself humming them in the shower three days later. The worst part? Kids have an uncanny ability to remember every lyric to the most mind-numbing songs, yet somehow forget their own shoe size when it’s time to get dressed.

The silver lining? One day, they’ll grow up, and you’ll miss the chaos. Until then, invest in noise-canceling headphones, stockpile candy bribes, and remember: the real destination was the emotional damage you collected along the way.