Friday, October 16, 2009

On why a non-moldy umbrella IS having high expectations

You know how I feel about Froot Loops, right? I don't think they should exist. However, they have been proven to have a purpose. That is to say, my car might often (but not right now!) look like the receptacle part of a dust pan but the Loops keep my girls sane during the drive home in the evenings. The daycare teachers hand them out in paper cups like kiddie crack at pickup time and a little artificially-induced high makes singing nursery rhymes for 40 minutes to the accompaniment of a worn-out CD exciting enough to make commuting a tolerable experience.

Except: recently a parent complained about the late-afternoon sugar snacks impeding with the healthy dinner at home to follow. I'm a veteran of our daycare center by now and this complaint comes up about annually or so, and so for a while nobody hands out crack on street corners distributes sugar snacks in the primary-colored halls as parting favors. Eventually, though, because all those addicts even the very little kids know where the pantry is, the dayglo confections inevitably return.

Look, Halloween is coming and it's a good time of year to be mindful of this PSA: don't stand between the powers of determination of a small kid who smells Sugar and The Sugar.

So we recently succumbed to a mindful phase. No Froot Loops for those kids at closing time!! There was a day, back in ought-seven or so, when I could get behind that campaign. Now I want nothing to do with it. You're just causing me problems.

My girls are hungry and taking away the Loops does not take away the traffic. Lo that such a correlation could be formed. I'd lead the anti-Loop bandwagon all the way down a road paved in carrot sticks. Howevs.

So we went through a phase in which they were eating their lunch leftovers during the car ride home. May I just frankly say: I hate when they eat their lunch leftovers in the car. Food gets Everywhere. And not dry food like Loops. We're talking cubed fresh melon. Berries. Peas and corn. Diced chicken breast. Occasionally: oatmeal. And one day about a month or so, fresh in the throes of the Anti-Loop Campaign (v. fall '09), L wanted to eat the rest of her black beans in the car.

And then the CDs rotated in the changer and L's favorite song came on. Yay, ee bee see bee!! (That's how she says 'ABCD' - you know it (unimaginatively) as the alphabet song.) She clapped. She dropped her beans all over the car.

I thought I had picked them all up that night.

I was mistaken.

Grossly mistaken.

In preparation for that third child who's beating me up from the inside out joining us soon we were measuring car seats and testing the installation of the infant carrier between the girls' two Britaxes. (Conclusion: the girls will soon be getting skinnier car seats.) While the car seats were temporarily de-installed, though, the lovely husband had the lovely idea to get my car detailed. (Told you he's lovely.)

The car detailing man rang the doorbell halfway through the job: "I need you to sign this form acknowledging that we have to charge you an extra $40 for mold."

Um...ewwwwwww.

Those beans...had lodged themselves underneath and within my cute polka-dotted umbrella that was stashed on the floor of the backseat. Upon lifting the umbrella, a black carpet lifted, too. It wasn't the floor mat. It was a freshly-grown bean-based organism that was slowly stitching my umbrella to the floor mat.

Say it again with me:

Um...ewwwwwww.

But have no fear! Because those nutritionally-minded parents always drop their vigilance eventually. (See above: re: PSA.) Froot Loops were distributed at pick-up both Monday and Tuesday this week.

It started raining yesterday and isn't supposed to stop until Monday.

And today, during lunch, I bought myself a new stripey umbrella. It folds up - and I think I'll keep it in my purse. Pin It