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Driving for nearly three days is rough on anyone.

Now add the fact that I'm driving a moving truck and my five-year-old son is in his car seat beside me, with all of our belongings in the truck portion.

Everything we own in one truck, to be unpacked in a new house, in a new state, where I'll start my new job in a month. I'm totally not at my last straw.

"Again!" Owen shouts excitedly, like the song that just finished hasn't been on repeat for the last hour alone. It’s that or a meltdown. I'm choosing my battles.

Did I mention I was close to my last straw?

I glance over long enough to see him restart the video on my phone.

The god-forsaken Wiggles start up for the umpteenth time.

I would love to cut that tree with the limb and the nest and the feather and whatever else is living on it down.

But it keeps Owen laughing and distracted about the fact that we have almost reached the new house.

It’s been an adventure getting us here. It took almost a week to pack everything alone, and then I thought we could have a nice father-son bonding trip, but Owen wasn't interested in stopping to look at statues or views of the mountains.

He wanted to stop at every convenience store he saw, claiming he had to use the bathroom each time.

Somehow, the bathroom always led to the snacks or the cheap toys some stores sell.

We made it through Tennessee before the first round of waterworks started and I found a hotel for us.

After a bath and fresh pajamas, Owen was out like a light.

I shouldn't have counted that as a blessing because he was up at five the next morning and we were back on the road by eight.

Driving through Arkansas and Oklahoma was no better.

Both of us were tired from the traveling, and I hated how little healthy food I was feeding myself and my kid. It just added to his irritability.

But now, we are only thirty minutes from the new house.

Despite everything, I smile when I hear Owen trying to sing along with the words. He isn't quite there with memorizing and speaking that fast, but A for effort, buddy. His jumbling and mixing the words brings a small smile to my face.

He's the only constant positive in my life and I love him with my whole heart.

I grew up fast when he was born and his mom passed away shortly after.

My family didn't see him as a gift, rather as something that derailed my plans.

It didn't matter that I ended up graduating with a degree and worked my ass off to get my license just one year behind what it should have taken.

So, we parted ways, and Owen and I are starting our new lives together.

I’ve just finished school at twenty-seven, while Owen is going to kindergarten this year.

"Daddy." Owen's voice pulls me out of my past and I look over to see he's holding out his arm with my phone. "Battery dead."

"Thanks, buddy." Taking the phone from him, I let it fall onto the seat. I’ll have to dig through my bag to find the charger once we get to the house. "Are you ready to see the new house?"

"No. "

Well, alright then. At least my kid is honest.

"It's going to be fun," I try. "And you'll be starting school soon, so you'll make a bunch of friends."

He doesn't say anything to that, and I try not to let him see me sigh and slump my shoulders. It'll be an adjustment, which is why I decided to move us a month earlier so he could get settled and hopefully make a friend or two in the neighborhood. It’s supposed to be a nice school system, too.

We drive the rest of the way in silence, but I can tell he's getting antsy. So am I, so I can't blame him. I'm ready to stretch my legs and avoid moving anything for at least a day. We can sleep on the air mattresses tonight. I’ll call it inside camping or something.

"Look, Owen. That's our house." I point to the house on the corner of Radford and Buckeye Street.

Most of the houses in the neighborhood are of a similar style.

A single story with a driveway on the left.

The sandstone color blends from one house to another.

The front landscape consists of gravel, rocks, and shrubbery.

There's a tree which shades a portion of the driveway, and I back the truck in so it's easier to unpack later. For the twentieth time, I wish I’d hired some movers to help.

"Where's the grass?" Owen asks when I help him out of the truck. The sun is beating down and I can almost immediately feel sweat trickling down the back of my neck.

Owen squints against the sun, looking back and forth from me to the space around us.

He's wearing a white t-shirt with his favorite Paw Patrol character and matching, light-up shoes.

The shorts land just above his knees, and I smile at how pale he is compared to myself.

He definitely took after his mother with the red hair and fair skin. He has my hazel-green eyes, though .

I add extra sunscreen to the growing list of things I need to make sure we have.

"There's a backyard too." I try to make it sound fun to get him excited. He has moved to closing one eye completely and his face is all scrunched up when he looks up at me.

"Can we set my pool up?"

The pool is just one of those plastic kiddie pools from a large chain store. He's nearly grown out of it; this will likely be our last year using it.

"How about we focus on getting the inside fixed up first?" We start moving to the front door as I dig for the keys in my pocket. "Do you want to open it?"

"Yes!"

Yes! I repeat in my head. This is the first sign of excitement I’ve seen from him in days where the move is concerned.

Owen is a typical five-year-old, but I swear he's so contemplative at times.

He likes to learn and ask questions, but I'll also find him sitting quietly and watching the world around him sometimes.

It takes him a full minute to get the key right and I help him by turning the knob while he pushes the door open.

The house is mostly an open-floor concept.

The door opens offset to the middle of the house.

There is a partial wall coming from the right, creating a counter island with three chairs on the side facing us and cabinets on the other side.

A sliding glass door on the opposite wall of the main entrance shows off the decent sized backyard.

There is grass there, thankfully, and a five-foot wall encasing the area on all three sides.

Owen will have enough space to play with his toys.

We might have to choose between the swing set or pool, but that can be a problem for later .

To the left is a hallway about halfway into the space.

I follow behind Owen as he explores each new room.

The bathroom is the first door on the right.

A selling point of this house was that the tub and shower are separate, something you don't see often in Arizona.

At least not in the price range that I could afford.

The second door on the right is the laundry room.

The two bedrooms are on the left side. I let Owen see both of them. One is slightly larger than the other, but either would be fine with me. "Which room would you like?" I ask Owen after he peeks his head into the closet of the second one. "You can pick, and I'll take the other one."

"I like this one," Owen says with a smile. He's missing the tooth next to his front one and it just makes him all the more adorable. "Do I still get my bed?"

"Of course, buddy." I follow him back out to the living room area. The medium-gray vinyl flooring is also different from the carpet we had in our old house. I won’t have to constantly remind Owen to be careful not to stain anything.

"Remember that we packed everything in the truck before we came here. We'll have to get it all out tomorrow."

"I want my toys now," Owen says. He stops in front of the glass door and immediately presses his hands to it, leaving smudges. Yeah, I might not have to clean carpet, but I'll need to keep glass cleaner on hand. "I wanna play."

I stop at the thermostat and adjust the air so it will kick on and cool down the place a little.

Owen has already moved on to open all the doors in the kitchen by the time I look back.

I sigh and follow behind him, closing each one as he moves on to the next.

Inquisitive mind and all. I remind myself each day that I'm going to let him learn as much as he wants from life.

If that means opening every cabinet and asking to look at the ones up top, I'll oblige.

I was forced to "act right" way too young by my parents.

I don't remember getting to be a kid very often.

"Can we get my trucks out?" Owen asks once he's satisfied with the kitchen. "I want to build a big track across the whole room."

"I'm sorry, buddy. The boxes are piled way in the back. We'll have to get it all tomorrow."

I can see the pout a moment before his little foot stomps on the floor. "I wanna play! There's nothing in here to play with."

"That's why I told you to pack a couple of toys in your bookbag, remember? We can go out and get those."

"No, I want my trucks!" Owen folds his arms across his body, and I start preparing for a meltdown while hoping I can talk him down.

"We can't get to your trucks right now," I repeat in a gentle tone.

I squat down to be on his level. His bottom lip is stuck all the way out in full-on pouting mode.

This is just one step away from the waterworks.

"How about we walk around and see what there is?

I saw a place where we could go get food just a few minutes from here? I bet they have chicken nuggets."

I can see the fight Owen is having in his little mind. Like most five-year-olds, chicken nuggets are his favorite food. But he also really loves his trucks.

The food wins out after a minute. I give myself a mental victory dance for a meltdown avoided and stand back up.

He starts complaining again when I make him wear his hat.

The sun is really hot here in August. I didn't account for that at all.

Three minutes later, Owen is rightfully complaining that it's too hot, so I bend down to scoop him up and carry him.

He isn' t too heavy for me to carry yet and, even though I'm sweating myself, I won’t miss the opportunity.

Who knows when it will be the last time?

The restaurant is a diner just outside the neighborhood. The cool air greets us when I open the door and a bell chimes above our heads. I set Owen on the ground and take his hand. His cheeks are already turning red despite the hat.

"Well, hello." An older woman greets us with a smile.

She has silver hair, wrinkles around her eyes, and is wearing a floral dress and compression socks.

Every bit the grandma vibe. She immediately grabs a menu and leads us to a table.

"Welcome to Ma's. I'm Ma. My husband and I run this place together. "

I help Owen onto his seat before sitting on my own.

The place doesn't give modern vibes at all, more a mix of 50's diner and retro with the square tiled floors, the counter that stretches across most of the space, and the mismatched chairs and tables.

The tall windows let in a lot of natural light throughout the space though.

I notice a group of guys, not much younger than me, it seems, sitting in a corner booth talking and laughing.

"What can I get you two to drink?"

"Water for both of us," I say.

"I want chocolate milk," Owen declares immediately.

"No, you can get water right now." I fix him with a look before turning back to the menu. It's just one side, so it doesn't take me long to see what I want. "You had a chocolate milk earlier."

"But I want chocolate milk." Owen raises his voice and I can see the few patrons in the diner glance our way, including the young guys.

"And I said no." I remain firm on that. If we have to walk back in the heat, the last thing I need is for his stomach to be upset and for him to get overheated.

That chocolate milk would surely make a reappearance.

"I'm sorry. Two waters, please. And I'll just have a cheeseburger, and he'll have some chicken nuggets. We'll share the fries."

"Oh honey, I'm so sorry." Ma turns to me and mouths the dreaded words:

We're out of chicken nuggets right now.