Nobody needs the bathroom until you pass the last exit

The job

Drive the family 900 miles to Grandma's over two days, with one night in a hotel. Arrive with the same number of kids, the same marriage and most of your sanity.

How the rookie does it

Thursday, 11:40 p.m. Packs the car like a man who once watched a video about Tetris. The cooler goes in first, all the way at the back, under everything. This will matter.

Friday, 7:00 a.m. Planned departure.

8:52 a.m. Actual departure.

8:58 a.m. Turns around for the stuffed rabbit. Nobody's leaving the state without the rabbit.

9:31 a.m. First "Are we there yet?" The rookie answers with an exact number of miles. The four-year-old takes this as a personal insult.

10:15 a.m. "I have to go." The exit was half a mile back. The sign says next services 38 miles.

10:16 a.m. The other kid, having heard the word "go," also has to go.

11:20 a.m. The snack bag, packed to last until Sunday, is empty. He handed the whole thing to the back seat and called it a plan.

12:30 p.m. Lunch at a sit-down place with a forty-minute wait, because "we deserve a real meal."

1:45 p.m. Tablet dies. Charger's in the trunk. Under the cooler.

3:10 p.m. The middle child, who's been reading in a moving car for an hour, goes quiet in the specific way that means one thing. There's no bag. There's a sun hat. There was a sun hat.

6:00 p.m. His wife suggests stopping for the night. He says, "We can push through." She was right. He finds this out at 9:45.

9:45 p.m. Reaches the hotel. To find the pajamas, he unloads the entire car in the parking lot under a buzzing light while a stranger watches from a balcony. The cooler is finally accessible. The ice is now water.

How the veteran does it

He leaves at 5:30 a.m. The kids get carried out in their pajamas, buckled in properly, and they're asleep again before the on-ramp. That's two or three quiet hours before anybody's even hungry.

Breakfast happens at the first rest area after they wake up. After that, he stops about every two hours whether anybody asks or not. Every stop has one rule: everybody tries. No "I don't have to." Everybody tries.

The snacks ride up front. He's the snack dealer, and he releases them on a schedule, which turns a granola bar into an event.

Lunch is at a park with a playground. Twenty minutes to eat, fifteen to run in circles on purpose. Tired legs make a quiet afternoon. The screens come out after that, not in the driveway. (The screen rules that hold up when you're tired turn out to be road-trip rules too.)

The kid who gets carsick sits where she can see out the front, window cracked, no screen. The bag kit's in the door pocket anyway.

He's off the road by five. The hotel pool does the rest of the parenting for the evening, which is exactly what it's for on the nights when you've got nothing left. One small overnight bag went in the car last, so it comes out first. One trip from the car, pajamas on, lights out. The cooler, loaded within reach, still has ice.

Same 900 miles. Feels like half of them.

What the veteran knows

1. Early beats late. Rested beats both. Leaving before dawn buys you sleeping kids. It doesn't buy you a rested driver. If you're yawning hard, drifting in the lane or can't remember the last few miles, pull over now and switch drivers or sleep. Drowsy driving is impaired driving. Coffee and loud music don't fix it.

1. Check the car the weekend before, not on the shoulder. Set the tires to the pressure on the sticker inside the driver's door, checked cold. Not the max number on the sidewall. Look at the tread, make sure the spare actually has air, top off the washer fluid and check the oil. If the car's been making a new noise, get it looked at before you leave, not 400 miles from your mechanic.

1. The car seats are the one thing you never rush. Harness snug enough that you can't pinch a fold of strap at the collarbone. Chest clip at armpit level. No puffy coats under the straps; buckle the kid in, then lay the coat or a blanket over the top. If you're not sure the seat's installed right, a certified child passenger safety technician will check it, and Safe Kids Worldwide can help you find one near you.

1. Stop every two hours, and everybody tries. The stop you make on your schedule takes ten minutes. The one the kids make for you happens at mile 37 of 38.

1. Load the car in reverse. What you'll need last goes in first. The overnight bag, chargers, carsick kit and cooler go in last, where you can reach them. Heavy things go low and toward the front of the cargo area. Nothing heavy rides loose in the cabin. In a hard stop, a loose cooler or toolbox keeps moving at the speed you were going.

1. Build a carsick kit and keep it in reach. Gallon zip-top bags, paper towels, wipes, an old towel and a full change of clothes for each kid. Kids who get queasy usually do better looking out the front with fresh air, and worse reading or watching a screen. If it happens every trip, ask your pediatrician before you go.

1. Never leave a kid in a parked car. Not for two minutes. Not with the windows cracked. Not for a quick run into the gas station. A closed car heats up fast, even on a mild day. Everybody comes in.

1. Download everything at home. Offline maps, the shows, the audiobook. The dead zone always starts the exact minute the tablet needs a new episode.

Your first time, done like a veteran

• Tires set to the door-jamb number, spare checked, fluids topped off.
• Car seats checked: snug harness, clip at the armpits, no puffy coats.
• Carsick kit in a door pocket. Snacks up front with you.
• Overnight bag and cooler loaded last.
• Maps and shows downloaded before you leave the driveway.
• Leave early. Stop every two hours. Off the road by dinnertime.
• If your wife says stop for the night, stop for the night.
• Borrowed Grandpa's van? Bring it back with a full tank and the floor vacuumed, even if it came to you on a quarter tank with Cheerios in the seat rails.

And put the rabbit in the car first. Before the cooler. Before the kids.