Sometimes, in an otherwise lovely day, a little pocket of suck opens up.

Today, the first day of Thanksgiving vacation, I took Evie and her friend Gabby out to the park and to lunch.  Evie and Gabby, fresh off a sleepover at Gabby’s house, were excited to spend more time together.  The weather was absolutely perfect: sunny, cool, with a deep blue November sky.  After playing at the park, we headed over to Chick-Fil-a with a couple more friends for lunch.  Three little girls all in a row, eating nuggets and laughing, having the best time.  After lunch, everybody headed in to the play area for the customary screaming and madcappity.

Then, out of nowhere:

1)  I notice the back of Gabby’s pants are wet.  Damn.  Okay, I have a couple of changes of clothes stashed in the trunk for just such an occasion.  I grab Gabby and poke my head in the play area to tell Jodi about the situation.  Gabby and I begin to head out to the car to grab a quick change when I hear the unmistakable sound of…

2)  Evie screaming.  Apparently, she ran after me out the play area’s door right as some doofus dad decided to introduce her cheek to the door handle.  Ow.  Jodi, anticipating the high-pitched aftermath, grabs Evie right up.  My child’s “pain scream,” stops me in my tracks, and I double back to check it out.  I wrangle Evie out of Jodi’s lap only to discover…

3)  Evie has wet her pants, too.  Damn.  Well, I do have two changes of clothes in the car.  All three of us head out to the car: an exhausted Gabby, an increasingly frazzled me and a still-crying Evie.  I try to calm Evie down, but it’s no use.  So,  like any reasonable person would do, I just start barking at everybody.  We Frogger our way across the busy parking lot to retrieve the…

4)  totally seasonally inappropriate clothes.  Damn.  Shorts and t-shirts.  These thin-blooded Florida girls are gonna freeze in these.  Oh, well.  At least they don’t smell like pee.  We Frogger back into the restaurant and head to the bathroom.  I choose the handicapped stall for our change because the alternative stall was roughly the size of a microchip.  I don’t know where Evie’s shoes are.  My hands are damp with pee.  The tired girls argue over who will get the Tinkerbell t-shirt.  Whine, whine, whine.  Bark, bark, bark.  Then I hear…

5)  someone complaining about our being in the handicapped stall.  We are “taking up the only stall she could use.”  I feel bad.  I try never to use the handicapped stall if I can help it for just this very reason.  It was when this person declared us “rude” that I stopped feeling so bad.  Rude?  What were my other choices, lady?  There are only two stalls in the bathroom!  I inform her (with a kind of a tone) that I have two little girls I’m changing and that we’re doing it as quickly as we can and that I’m sorry.  But the girls aren’t exactly cooperating, and trying to rush them is making it worse.  Amidst the flushing and the whining and the being rude the situation looks bleak until…

6)  Evie’s shoes appear underneath the stall.  Jodi.  Dontcha love girlfriends?  We emerge, de-peepified.  The girls are sporting summer clothes and winter boots, and I’m swinging a grocery bag full of damn.  I make brief eye contact with the wheelchaired lady to make sure she sees what I was dealing with.  Before hightailing it the hell out of there, we have a regroup outside the front door.  I give big hugs and apologize for barking.  I promise them a cookie from Publix.  I try to zip up the pocket of suck.  We Frogger back across the parking lot, I strap them both in the car, toss the smelly bag of clothes in the trunk and peel off into the afternoon, never to be heard from again.

Wonder what the second day of vacation will bring?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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