vacation fragment

I ignored the twinge in my lower back as I lifted the black suitcase and set it in the open trunk of the car. I added the gray backpack, the green laundry bag, two brown paper bags - food and electronics - and the kid-sized navy blue backpack with the teddy bear face on it. I shuffled the luggage around so the trunk would close then paused. Everything was in place. I took a deep breath. My back ached a little. I dug my phone out of my pocket and made a note to see the chiropractor for my back and to go to urgent care the next day for my earache. I looked back down at the jumbled trunkful of bags. I took another deep breath. No one was crying. No one was tugging at my pantleg demanding to be picked up. No one was climbing on me. No one shouted. No one asked me for anything. Round white clouds like cottonballs floated slowly in a sky full of blue. I took another deep breath and walked back to the motel room. I slid my keycard into the lock, the light turned green. I pulled the door open and called “the car’s loaded!” The baby toddled forward toward me with a big smile, paused, and peed all over the floor. “Uh!” she grunted, pointing at the pee. “You peed! Let me get a towel.” My wife stepped out of the motel room bathroom and tossed me a towel while my other daughter ran out from behind her, singing a cartoon theme song at top volume. “Thanks,” I said, “should we go get breakfast soon?” “Yeah for sure, let me just do the final check under the beds, make sure we’re not leaving any toys.”