So our five hour drive became a six and a bit hour drive. That happens when you're travelling with the smalls, and that's ok.
The smallest of the smalls slept for approximately 50 minutes total - usually she would have slept at least four hours. But not a complaint. She was too excited. She was ready to hit the road and was not prepared to miss a blink of it (well not many blinks anyway).
The biggie small chattered the whole way. Questioning "Who did mummy marry?", "Who did daddy marry?" And then chuckling and saying: "That's a bit funny!"
I mentioned a while ago that while we had finished toilet training there was still one wee (pun definitely intended) problem. He doesn't go while we're out. This posed a slight problem as three and a half hours after leaving Sydney, he'd not wanted a wee stop, and I had been asking "Do you need to do a wee?" at ten minute intervals.
Forevermore, this will be the trip remembered as mummy asking if small fry needed a pit stop. But - it was better than what could have happened, right?
Finally, I decided to send in the heavies (ie. me) and say that we were leaving our travel stop in two minutes, and he had to do a wee before we left. It was poetry. As much as weeing can be poetry.
Anyway, my bin is probably pining for me (well I am for it at least). Right now it's sitting out on the street unattended. I'm still getting over it.
Thanks for your comments. I always love reading them. Alas, I'll respond when I am back in the big smoke (while I am a complete nerdburger with cheese, I can't figure out my webmail right now). In the meantime, stay tuned for my mini-break snaparoos as I take you around my hometown - the only place I know where you can do bootscooting as a subject at school. Now that's special.