It was a bright Saturday morning, and the Harris family was set to embark on their long-anticipated weekend getaway to the mountains. The air smelled faintly of gasoline and fresh-cut grass, and the sun glinted off the hood of their well-worn but trusty station wagon. It should have been a peaceful scene, but chaos was bubbling just beneath the surface.

“Is everything ready?” Dad asked, standing triumphantly by the car, keys in hand. His shirt was already damp with sweat, even though it wasn’t even nine o'clock yet. He had packed the car with what he thought was a masterstroke of spatial ingenuity.

Mom surveyed the pile of bags still sitting on the driveway. “Everything but these,” she said, pointing to the cooler, the extra duffel bag, and the mystery bag she always seemed to pack, filled with “just-in-case” items.

Dad’s face tightened. He rubbed the back of his neck, already sensing his meticulously planned trunk arrangement was about to be completely undone. “Okay, I’ll—uh, I’ll just… I can rearrange it.”

“Dad! Dad!” Charlie, the youngest, came running from the house, a look of panic in his wide eyes. He was clutching a small, neon green backpack, which bulged awkwardly in several places, the zipper struggling to keep it all together. “I think I need to go to the bathroom again.”

Dad sighed. “Didn’t you just go?”

Charlie shifted from one foot to the other, his sneakers squeaking slightly against the driveway. “Yeah, but that was before. This is now.”

“Well, go inside, quick,” Mom said, pushing Charlie gently toward the house. “But quick, Charlie, please.”

As Charlie bolted toward the house, Sarah, his older sister, strolled out of the garage, her face buried in her phone. “Is he serious? We haven’t even left yet.”

“He’s six,” Mom reminded her, though even her patience seemed to be thinning. She turned back to Dad, who was now standing in front of the open trunk, staring at the mess inside with the grim determination of a general planning an ambush. “We’ll be fine,” she said, though her tone didn’t sound entirely convinced. “I’m sure we don’t need all of it anyway.”

Dad grunted as he pulled out the giant duffel bag, the cooler, and a random assortment of things he’d somehow managed to shove in earlier. “Where’s the cat?” he asked suddenly, realizing they were missing a key member of their traveling circus.

“Here, Jasper, Jasper, Jasper,” Mom called out, as if the cat would miraculously appear at her command.

Out of nowhere, the sleek black and white cat leaped onto the roof of the car, his tail twitching in obvious disdain for the whole enterprise. Jasper had already figured out that something was wrong. He was not a fan of change, especially when it involved long car rides. His green eyes narrowed, and for a brief moment, it looked like he was planning a daring escape to the neighbor’s yard.

“Jasper!” Sarah shrieked. “Get down, you idiot!”

Dad looked up from his re-packing. “Do not call the cat an idiot. Just grab him before he bolts.”

“I’m not grabbing him. He’s giving me that murder look.”

“Sarah, please,” Mom pleaded, picking up the empty litter box that Jasper would probably ignore the entire trip. “Just grab him.”

As Sarah grudgingly scooped the disgruntled Jasper into her arms, Charlie came running back out of the house, this time with a small plastic toy boat clutched in his hand. “I forgot my boat!” he yelled triumphantly, waving it like a trophy.

“Charlie,” Dad groaned, looking at the car, then at the ever-growing pile of things they were taking. “Where are we going to put that?”

“I can hold it,” Charlie said innocently, but Dad’s eyes were already scanning the small back seat, where Sarah and Charlie would be sitting side by side for the next three hours. Dad mentally calculated the number of arguments that would erupt if Charlie spent the entire drive waving a plastic boat in his sister’s face. He shuddered at the thought.

“Here, let’s just put it in the trunk,” Mom said gently, as she tried to slip it into one of the narrow gaps Dad had somehow left after his latest attempt at trunk Tetris.

“You know what,” Dad said, stepping back and rubbing his chin. “I’m going to need to redo this whole thing.” He began pulling everything out again with grim determination.

“Seriously?” Sarah groaned, blowing a stray lock of hair out of her face. “We’re never leaving.”

Jasper meowed pitifully from her arms as if he, too, was growing weary of Dad’s packing ritual. The bags came out, the cooler was set aside, and the duffel bag was thrown onto the grass. Again. Dad started his rearrangement for the third time.

“Okay, if I push this bag over here,” Dad muttered to himself, wedging a suitcase into a new corner. “And if I put the cooler up here…”

As Dad worked, a faint but unmistakable smell began to fill the air inside the car. It was sweet and sticky, like cheap bubblegum.

“Who has gum?” Mom asked, her voice edged with suspicion.

Charlie, sitting innocently in the back seat, suddenly froze, his lips still a little too shiny.

“Charlie,” Mom began, her voice soft but dangerous. “Did you… put gum in your mouth?”

“No,” Charlie said quickly, though his cheeks bulged like a chipmunk’s.

“Spit it out, Charlie,” Dad barked, barely looking up from his trunk puzzle.

Charlie, defeated, spit the wad of pink gum into a tissue that Mom held out, though not before the gum left a sticky residue on his cheek and fingers. “I thought we weren’t allowed gum in the car,” Sarah said with the superiority only a big sister can wield.

Mom sighed. “That’s because it ends up stuck to the seat. Or someone’s hair.”

“I only did it once!” Charlie protested.

Finally, after several more grunts and groans, Dad slammed the trunk shut. “There. Now we’re ready.”

Mom gave him a dubious look. “Are you sure? I mean, did you fit everything?”

Dad patted the trunk, his expression set. “I’m sure. Everything’s in. We’re good.”

The family piled into the car at last. Jasper, relegated to the passenger seat with Mom, gave a disdainful hiss and curled up miserably on her lap.

Dad adjusted his rearview mirror. “Everyone ready?”

“Yeah!” Sarah said, plugging her earbuds in.

“Ready!” Charlie yelled, clutching his toy boat to his chest.

Dad started the engine, and the car rumbled to life. They pulled out of the driveway slowly, the car sagging slightly under the weight of all their luggage.

Just as they reached the end of the street, Charlie’s small voice piped up from the back seat.

“Dad?”

Dad closed his eyes for a brief moment, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “Yes, Charlie?”

“I gotta go to the bathroom.”

Mom stifled a laugh, and Dad let out a groan that echoed through the car. The Harris family’s road trip had only just begun.