Today, I reached the pinnacle of mindlessness.
It started off like any other day – I decided to bring B to the library by bus. It takes real effort to miss it because this bus stops directly in front of our house, and yet we still had to run after it, waving our arms like air traffic controllers just to get on. The rest of the 10-minute drive was pleasantly uneventful, as was the actual trip to the library. So pleasant, in fact, that I actually started congratulating myself on a job well-done as we headed back home.
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Silly Mommy – you should know that self-praise gets you nowhere as a parent! We got off the bus back at our house, thanked the driver and proudly walked the two paces to our front door. It was then when I came to the realization that my backpack – you know, the one that contained my wallet, EpiPens, and, minor detail, the house keys – was still on the bus.
To her credit, B just looked up at me with pity in her eyes, likely asking herself why she had to be cursed with a moron for a mother – but for once in her life, she didn’t ask questions. Instead, she became an unknowing (but totally willing) accomplice in attempted breaking and entering, as I tried using every outdoor decoration, stick, and piece of cardboard I could find on the ground to try to pick my lock. Needless to say, nothing worked.
Defeat turned to frustration once I realized that my car keys were also in that backpack – which eliminated the possibility of driving us to my parents’ house – and frustration soon turned to panic as B looked up and me and said, “Mommy, I need to go to the bathroom.”
Just seconds before we pulled down our pants and committed the second felony of urinating on public property, I heard the sound of – what was this? a BUS! OUR BUS! – coming back down the street. Turns out the wonderful driver saw my backpack, realized I needed all the help I could get, and actually drove it back to me as soon as he could.
I’ve never liked the bus more than I did that day.