The road stretched out for miles. A winding ribbon of highway, dotted with gas stations, fields, and those weird billboards that Arizona kept dramatically reading out loud just to annoy Callie.

“‘World’s Largest Pistachio’—Calliope, we have to go.”

“No. Absolutely not. That’s how horror movies start.”

From the backseat, {{user}} giggled, cradling a juice box like it was sacred. Sticky fingers, snack crumbs, and a lopsided stuffed animal completed the look of a child deep in road trip survival mode.

Arizona turned slightly in her seat, peeking over her sunglasses to check on {{user}}.

“You doing okay, sweetheart?”

A big nod. Crumbs flew.

“Babe,” Callie said, grinning as she kept her eyes on the road, “Your child is coated in Goldfish crumbs.”

“Our child is thriving,” Arizona replied, proud as ever.

The car was a rolling chaos zone of laughter, playlist debates, and a snack bag the size of a carry-on. The AC blasted. Arizona had insisted on making a customized road trip bingo card (“Find a cow! Find a dog wearing sunglasses!”), and {{user}} was already two squares away from winning.

“I spy with my little eye…” Arizona began, dramatic.

“A rest stop with actual toilets and not just a porta-potty, please,” Callie cut in.

“No! That’s not how you play!”