Most
incidents that occur in, or to, our family begin as innocent adventures.
We recently met our friends, the Maloof family for an afternoon of
bowling and Mexican dinner, typically followed by ice cream. If you have
not heard of the Maloof's, get in the game. They are the most understated
family in Atlanta, but bring the most to the table. Their four children
and our four children match up and we all have a lot of fun together.
Well, it turns out that Mr. Maloof missed his calling as a professional
bowler. I had to hang my head in shame in front of my children as he
bowled something close to a 200. Not the perfect game, but might as well
be for a guy who bowls once a year whether he likes it or not.
Once
we left our family spanking at the bowling alley, we piled the boys in my car
and the girls in Mrs. Maloof's car so we could make our way to Jalisco's.
We like to think of it as the finest Mexican restaurant in town. What
it lacks in authenticity, it makes up for in atmosphere. And, when 12
people descend on a small place all at once, things can easily get out of hand.
But I digress. That is not the point of this story. We then
walked next door for ice cream, which sets the stage for Act III.
There
was a lot of excitement. There were a lot of kids. And there was a
lot of dairy. It is impossible to go to a Mexican restaurant and not eat
copious amounts of cheese dip, followed by two scoops of something dark and sweet.
Turns out my one year old cannot turn down a bowl of cheese dip either.
Tie that in with all the excitement of the evening, and it explains the
panic in my LW's voice on the way home.
We
were in separate cars, and I was winning. It is always a race.
LW-
"Where are you?!"
Me-
"In front of Lovett. WAY ahead of you I am sure."
LW-
"Well, when you get home I need some help so get ready. Win has
thrown up all over the place. The kids are about to climb out onto the
roof and it stinks in here."
Me-
"Yuck."
Yuck
is right. However, the vehicle that arrived significantly behind me-
because I am a winner- was quite the sight. Apparently it was tilted for
at least part of the way as the kids took it upon themselves to reason that
their safety was second to their proximity to their baby brother. They
had all unhooked and were as far away from him as they could be and still be in
the car. I could hear three of the kids screaming as they approached.
By this point, they were not even in the car. They weren't on the
roof, just running down the street. When given the option to flee the
premises, they did and ran the rest of the way.
My
poor one year old was in his car seat, still as a statue, arms raised, afraid
to move or make a noise. It was like the Germans were on his tail and his
best defense was to act like a tree. He could move his eyes, but any
other movement would give his position away, and he did not want to be
captured.
I
didn't even try to clean him up. I just pulled the whole chair out of the
car, put it in the tub, and showered him out of it. I am not sure that
seat will ever be the same. I feel like most of my blogs are centered on
my children's bodily functions.
