Out of the Mouths of Babes

Shorty.

He asked me to help him dig through the "cars box" to find two cars that have somehow disappeared. We dug. No cars.

He picked up the box to take it back to his room and put it away -- such a sweet and obedient child, my third one.

He tripped in the doorway of his room, sending cars rolling across the floor in all directions. After a moment of screaming, followed by a moment of silent contemplation of the mess, he clomped his way back to me.

Shorty: I need you to pick up all those cars. Then give me a kiss. Because that's your job.
Me: That's my job?
Shorty: Yes. To clean the cars then give me a kiss.
Me: Okay, buddy, let's go clean up the cars.
Shorty: No. You need to do it by yourself. It's your problem. It's not my problem.

Like I said...sweet, obedient...

Oh, boy.

what a day!

It seems to me that today was fairly typical of much of our summer vacation. It was filled with moments of great fun juxtaposed with moments of complete frustration and near meltdowns.

Perhaps there was even an actual meltdown.

It might have been mine. We will not mention the individual who did, in fact, melt down.

We started off the day slowly, sleeping in and taking our time moving from pajamas to actual clothes. We indulged our laziness by watching Sid the Science Kid and Sesame Street.

 

I love those guys. Really, I do.

We moved straight from pj's to swimming trunks and sunscreen, ready to go celebrate a classmate's birthday at Splash City. There were some unexpected tears regarding goggles, of all things. They had to be worn. There was no debating that with the Twinkies. However, Thing 2 was adamant that his be worn loosely, so that the strap drooped in the back and the goggles themselves barely stayed in front of his eyes.

I tried to argue. I threatened to call the whole adventure off. I was an exemplary parent and chose to pick my battles. He wore his goggles loose, droopy, and pointless.

After wiping away some tears and rubbing some puffy eyes, we made our way to the party. It was super fun. The kids had a blast, and looked adorable doing it.

They swam, they slid, they jumped, they floated. They got tired. They got hungry. They got cranky. They did NOT want to leave.

 

There were a few more tears, but we shuffled our way to the locker room and got changed. Thing 1 then noticed that his goggles were missing. Where are they? I asked. And what are we going to do if they are lost? He was pretty sure I would just buy him another pair with my money.

Ha.

After some more pouty faces, we finally got out to the parking lot and loaded ourselves into the unbearably hot car. That is when things started to get interesting.

I stuck the key into the ignition, and the car wouldn't start. No. Wait. That's not quite right. They key wouldn't even turn. I jiggled. I wiggled. I messed with the gear shifter. For. Nearly. Twenty. Minutes.

Then I called the hubby. Only to find out that he was in the middle of working on a dish machine, had just sliced his forehead open on a door, cut most of the tip of his thumb off, and was generally frustrated with both the first aid station available to him (his thumb was bandaged up with a paper towel and electrical tape) and the situation with the appliance he was attempting to fix.

Needless to say, he was not of much use to me at that time.

So. I called my dad.

Have I mentioned how nice it is to be close to family? Well, it is.

He immediately hopped in his van to come and rescue us from the heat, hunger, and exhaustion that was quickly wreaking havoc on our already tenuous moods. After we got the kiddos buckled into the rescue vehicle, he asked if he could try to start my car.

Sure, Dad. Good luck.

I handed him my keys. Two point three seconds later, my car's engine roared to life.

Yeah.

It's been one of those days Summers.