"If you don't settle down I am stopping the car." 

That shut them up. There were lions out there, real ones.
I looked over at Martin and he actually rolled his eyes, shook his head. I don't know when the contempt began. 

"Where will you go?" I asked, quietly. 

"I don't know. My mother's." 

"Look at the elephant!" Beau shouted, delightedly. Karen kicked the seat, hopping up and down. Her seat belt tugging at her. 
 They had forgotten already, but that’s kids for you.
"They said not to make any sudden movements,” I reminded them.

The pachyderm was probably 10 feet from the car, trumpeting. The lions licked themselves. 

"We'll see you ... when, then? A week?"
“Stop pushing!” A popular complaint.
Birds danced at the watering hole, warily.
Later, I wondered how the children would remember this day. What details would remain? Would it be the high hum of seatbelts pulling? The sour smell of air conditioning? Or the pack of lions outside? Panting; dozing. Resigned.