Back in the day when I rode northbound for twenty-four hours in the back seat of my parent’s station wagon to visit my Minnesota cousins, my Aunt was always looking for ways to keep us here a little bit longer. And she was brilliant at it.

My dad would have just finished playing tetris with our suitcases, sealing the hatch and strapping us down to our plaid seats when his sister would wander over with a steaming cup of coffee, lean into the window, and work her magic. Within moments my brothers and I would be running free while my dad went in to fill up another cup of coffee and my mom devised another shopping trip to the mall.

My Aunt could convince nearly all her siblings to stay at least for supper. She walked from packed car to packed car, releasing cousins from Texas, New Mexico, and North Dakota. Like caged animals we would spring from our seats and rip through their green lawn, tickled with our freedom and ecstatic at the prospect for more time together.

Following in this great tradition, my cousin Heather and I began hatching plans as soon as the midnight bells began to the toll on our last day together. Her husband, Fred, was starting a new job on Tuesday, so there wasn’t much time for extensions. We squeezed and squeezed the timetables, but only one hour would drip out here or there. It was hardly worth the effort and our hands were getting sticky. I crawled in my rain-saturated tent that night knowing that tomorrow there would be no last-minute unpacking.

The morning sun brought relief from the rain and hope.

“Rachel,” Heather said as we washed the sleep from our eyes. “Fred’s thinking about maybe renting a car and driving home, and then he would come back on the weekend and get us.”

“What? Are you serious?” I said, putting down my washcloth. Her husband had just devised the most elaborate extension in the history of our family.

“Yeah, it was his idea.”

“Well, he can take HungryMan’s car.”

And that’s how I involved my husband in our schemes, by depriving him of his automobile.

Yesterday morning, Fred started off on a nine hour trek home, which he will repeat in reverse on Friday. If that doesn’t say, “I love my wife,” I don’t know what does.

Except maybe the fact that he’s driving HungryMan’s car while listening to HungryMan’s ipod on HungryMan’s stereo.

There are now ten little feet hopping around my house in anticipation of trips to the beach and the museum. While Heather and I are dreaming of nap-time when we can retreat to the couch with a cup of chai and devise our own trip to the mall.

Because clearly, it’s for the children.