(Do you know how many posts I start with "so"? LOTS!)
Today, I went to the grocery store because I wanted to make breakfast for dinner, and therefore needed supplies. We successfully navigated the store, got home, did lunches, naps, swimming in our backyard, playing, fun fun fun!
So (whoops there I go again) I was making the muffins (cinnamon struessel, be jealous.) when I realized we needed more eggs. Sigh. One can not make breakfast burritos without eggs. It's kind of the point.
"Guys! We have to go to Smiths! I need eggs." I shouted to all children.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" They both scream in response.
"But guys! If we go, you can drive a CAR CART!" I say this with extreme excitement.
"CAR CART!" Spencer was sold on the idea. Henry, not so much.
"I DON'T WANT TO DRIVE A CAR CART! IT HURTS MY TINKLE!"
Sigh. NO idea why the car cart hurts his "tinkle." NO idea why he calls his boy bits a "tinkle." We use proper terminology in our family. No woo-woos or bazooms in this house.
We loaded up anyway. Henry yelled the whole way. About car carts and boy parts.
Poetry in motion, I tell you what.
We get there, and Spencer has no shoes.
HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?
Amazingly, I found a rogue car cart stuck in a parking spot, right next to a VACANT parking spot.
In they go. Miracle of miracles, there was a set of toy keys left by some small, and now probably sad, boy. Henry scoops them up and asks if he can keep them. I agree, thanking the angels for making him happy to ride in the car cart.
I grab eggs and some other stuff all the while making Spencer and Henry take turns and switch those darn keys back and forth, back and forth, BACK AND FORTH!
We get outside and I realize, I do not remember where we parked. Ridiculous considering I'd been inside for all of 7 minutes. I start to walk down the sidewalk, pushing my heavy car cart squinting, looking. I get to the ramp and decide to decend into the parking lot to keep looking, when this HUGE SUV stops and parks RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE RAMP! If anyone was ever disabled and in need of a ramp, it was me, right then. Spencer crying because it wasn't his turn, Henry shouting over the din, "DEY ARE MY KEYS!" and Oliver babbling. I gave the driver of the SUV (who just HAD to have a Red Box rental RIGHT THEN and just HAD to park in my way) the evil eye, turned around and walked ALLLL the way back to the front of the store, to the OTHER ramp.
We get to the car, and Oliver, who thus far had been behaving nicely, starts to fuss and cry. I realize he's probably hungry. I strap the boys into their seats, which is SUCH a feat, especially when it's 103 degrees outside. I give the keys to Spencer for his turn.
Henry proceeds to scream and screech. I don't mean like, yell. I mean, like high-pitched girly squeals that hurt your ears. He's intense.
I offer Oliver a bazoom but he's not interested. I vaguely think, "I sure hope the person parked here isn't a weirdo," about the car next to us, when a cop walks up. He's the car next to us. I put myself away as speedily as can be done. Phew! Crisis averted.
I switch the keys from Spencer to Henry. They switch roles, Spencer screaming and Henry shouting, "I FOUND DEM! DEY ARE MINE!"
I start to pull forward out of the spot, because there was no car in front of me, when an adorable, vintage truck, driven by an unattractive man pulls into the spot. DANG IT!
BUT WAIT! He doesn't want to park there, oh no. He wants to use it as a starting point to BACK INTO A DIFFERENT SPOT.
What is it with men and backing into spaces? Is it REALLY that much more gratifying to pull forward OUT of a spot than it is to pull forward INTO a spot? REALLY?
At this point, I'm thinking, "Really, I can't make this crap up."
But there is more. There is always more when it comes to me.
As we were pulling out of the parking lot, Henry DROPPED THE KEYS. And I was not interested in stopping, and pulling over to retreive them.
The screeching! Both boys near hysterics. ALL THE WAY HOME!
Well, let me tell you. I was wishing the angels had kept their demon keys and left me alone.
Cuz when this little piggy goes to market, "wee" all the way home doesn't even begin to describe it.