We drove home from Lake Britton way up in Northern California, above Redding, the other day. I have been going there for a few years now for a week of waterskiing with friends, and this was the first time since Rachel was born.
The trip home was a long one; it takes at least 5 or 6 hours to drive back to Berkeley, a very long time for a baby. An eternity, really. We stopped twice, once for lunch, and once a bit later just for a little break. Once we got back in the car after the second stop, Rachel just lost it. She spent most of the last hour and a half of the trip home screaming at the top of her lungs.
At some point, I noticed that she was also repeatedly making the sign (hold your hands in front of you, palms facing forward, fingers pointing up, and twist your wrists side to side) for "finished". As in, I'm finished being in this car seat, Daddy!
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