A friend commented recently that if the MI5 wanted to extract the truth from a suspected spy, all they need to do is sit them in a car with a small child. After a five hour journey of non stop toddler chatter, they would surely confess to all manner of things, screaming to the driver to just stop the car!

Car travel and children, what a delicious combination! Road safety agencies advising against driving whilst eating, programming the sat. nav. or fiddling with the stereo, should also consider cautioning drivers against travelling with toddlers. The ultimate in multi-tasking, you are a captive audience, driver, navigator, mediator. Take to the road with pre-schoolers and your sanity is in their grubby little hands.

And it starts even before your journey does. You get to the car, (this in itself may have taken a ridiculous amount of time.), bend down to help your little cherub into their seat when you hear those three little words. “Me do it!” You know for a fact that they cannot do it. They do not accept this. Panic begins to set in as you mentally scan the options. If you let them try by themselves you will almost certainly be late. If you help them you will be rewarded by an angry outburst of massive proportion.
Of course, a lot depends upon mood, yours and theirs. On a good day when things are going swimmingly and you feel in control, (hah!) it doesn’t matter that you have been standing outside the car for half an hour watching Little Miss Independent try and repeatedly fail to manouver her chubby little body into her car seat. Occasionally on particularly good days you can even turn it into a game, becoming a big crane to hoist your toddler cargo into position. If your time, patience and mental capacity have already been sorely tested however, you are likely to go for option two, bracing yourself for the indignant wails of fury as you contort little arms through twisted straps, rummaging madly for the buckle whilst trying to bend your child in the middle.

I must admit, it is usually with some degree of relief that I ease myself into the drivers seat secure in the knowledge that my two energetic children are, well, secured. Relief quickly dissipates however once the journey is under way together with the running commentary. One of the best bits about being a parent is how completely fascinating and full of wonder the world is to children, how they find joy in the simplest of things. And it doesn’t stop in the car.

Stressful it may be, but after three and four years of advanced driving, as I like to think of it, the children have me well trained. I will now with very little prompting, regularly extend my hand behind me into the back seat ready to receive any manner of empty bottle or packet. I have learnt to notice and announce diggers and tractors with toddler-like enthusiasm and a train passing over a bridge above us has us all squealing with delight.

I can see totally where my friend is coming from, and I have a couple of little chatterboxes the MI5 could borrow from time to time. I am sure they would prove most effective. Thing is, after being my in-car entertainment for a number of years now, I think I would find the silence even more tortuous.