Mommy are we there yet?

I expect DFACS at the door at any time to talk to me about child abuse. We drove three hours in the car yesterday and Faith couldn't watch any movies. You would have thought we were making her wear short shorts and sit on black vinyl seats in the sun on a triple-digit day. I never heard her complain about anything so much. We had decided to take my car - the one without the movie screens - as it gets much better gas mileage than my husband's large van. "But I'm going to be soooo bored," Faith kept whining as we packed our suitcases. Poor thing. My husband pointed out we didn't even have videos growing up. We saw movies in the theater and waited a lifetime until they came out on television. Trying to make the best of her dismal situation, she grabbed her "laptop," a computerized learning game and worked all the way to Atlanta. She did pause to check out the tall buildings which is ironic because I just wrote about the skyline for today's Southern Sunday column in The Telegraph. I told you our minds are mysteriously linked at times. She noticed the Marriott's base was larger than its top. My husband told her we'll take her there some time and go inside. He's trying to foster a career in architecture, we'll see. Dancer seems to be tops on her short list right now. Perhaps it's the influence of "High School Musical," which she didn't get to watch again on the trip. Not to worry, it was the first thing out of her suitcase at my brother's in Rome. Maybe she'll get her fill before the return trip.

- Liz Fabian