"No. Why?"
"You have on your Atlantic City shirt."
They do the same thing when they see LaVeta packing her travel bag with Doritos, sandwiches and those little juice boxes with the straws glued to the side. Seeing my Phillies shirt in combination with LaVeta's travel bag can incite a kiddie riot, because that means we're going to a place where go-karts, games and funnel cake abound.
Of course, the kids have their own habits, and they display them as soon as we get in the car.
"He hit me!"
"She's lying!"
"Are we there yet?"
This normally starts before I put the car in drive, and it continues until LaVeta threatens to obliterate the entire backseat.
After the kids are struck dumb with fear, I try to lighten the mood. "So, anybody wanna hear some music?"
Before they can respond, I turn on an R&B station, and LaVeta and I put on our game faces. We're about to play the car radio game show. I can name an inappropriate song in three notes. LaVeta can name it in two. Name That Tune!
After about 15 minutes of dodging erectile dysfunction commercials and lyrics like 'Smack it up flip it, rub it down, oh no!' it's usually CD time.
Our habit is to play a little Lauryn Hill, maybe some jazz, perhaps even some Run-DMC. But our trip is never complete until we've played Michael Jackson.
This became one of our family rituals almost by accident, when we discovered that our kids would invariably fall asleep an hour into the 90-minute trip. The first time we played Michael Jackson, it was in an attempt to wake them up, and it worked like a charm.
As soon as we put Jackson 5: The Ultimate Collection into the CD player, a piano run, along with a driving bass and guitar snapped them awake. Then Michael Jackson's pure, unfiltered, prepubescent voice came over the speakers singing the 1969 hit, "I Want You Back."
