First of all, let me say thank you for all your well wishes. My tongue is almost back to normal, and I’m taking my meals with a fork once again.
Life is good.
Well, we did it. Today we went on our planned field trip to the Kennedy Space Center. And although you may find it hard to believe, all of the children behaved very well. Even Jensen.
Except for that one fateful moment of panic when I looked down at the camera to find THE RIGHT DADGUM BUTTON TO PUSH, and then looked up to discover that Jensen was GONE.
NOWHERE TO BE SEEN GONE.
We began frantically hollering his name and running in all directions. When we heard a faint, “WHAT?”
He had scampered into a display rocket capsule, and was preparing for lift off. (That whole leash idea? It’s still on the table.)
But other than that, he was very good.
And I’d love to be able to tell you that the day passed with no incident whatsoever.
But that would be a lie.
When we were entering the space compound, I needed to show proof of residency, to acquire free tickets. Whenever we go somewhere that requires a good deal of walking, I leave my heavier purse at home and travel light. With 3 children, TWO food coolers, and a dilapidated stroller used to haul all of our crap.
Therefore, I place my drivers license (and other assorted cards that we might need in case we end up in an emergency room) in a zip lock baggy, and put it into my much smaller purse.
Fiddledaddy was parking the car, and I had all of our bags and children in tow. When I arrived at the window to show my drivers license, I whipped out my little baggy and held it up, examining the contents against the glare from the sunlight.
After a few moments, I realized that the baggy I had extricated contained a tampon, mini-pad, and 6 ibuprofen.
I looked at the woman behind the window and said, “This isn’t going to help me get in, is it?”
Quickly, I retrieved the correct bag, produced proof of residency, and scurried through the gate.
A little while later, I received a phone call from Fiddledaddy who needed me to come get him through the gate, as he had forgotten his wallet.
AND WHAT LUCK! He was at the very same window that I had entered through. With all the nonchalance I could gather, I began rummaging through my purse.
She waved Fiddledaddy through, “Oh, never mind honey, I remember you.”
I always like to think that it’s my winning personality that people will remember when I’ve blown through their lives. That’s my delusion, and I’m stickin’ to it.
I’m going to take a break from Saturday Stirrings this weekend, as I’ve not had any culinary inspiration to draw from. You know, with the whole hideous tongue incident and all.
Have a wonderful weekend!