Getting out the door in the morning is a carefully choreographed process that must be executed perfectly. If not, tragedy ensues.
Those of you with presentient babies (you know, the really young ones that don't do a whole lot at this stage; they sit and hang out and occasionally void themselves from one end or the other and cry every once in a while, but other than that there just ain't a whole lot goin' on. They lie there oblivious to the world around them) are lucky. You don't have a whole lot to do in the morning. You THINK you do (I hear you whinging now, yes, w-h-i-n-g-i-n-g, WIN-JING), but you do not. The Toddler is a whole different animal, my friends. He runs! He attempts to tackle the dog! He hits the TV with his plastic golf club while yelling "BOOBAH! BOOBAH!" And HE DOES NOT CARE A WHIT FOR YOUR PROBLEMS. Got curlers in your hair? "Fuck you, feed me." Trying to iron your shirt? "Fuck you, change me." Trying to find your car keys? "FUCK YOU, PLAY WITH ME." (I've seen "Goodfellas" many, many times, yes.)
Our house in the morning is as busy as the deck of the U.S.S. Nimitz. People running this way and that, barking out orders in short terse phrases, hand signals often replacing spoken English. Shower. Towel off. Wake child. Cut up bananas. Make coffee. Put dog outside. Make bed. Pack lunches. Grab laptop. Feed child. Clean child. Dress child. Secure child in carseat. Clear Xterra for takeoff. Go go go go.
We're usually a well-oiled machine when it comes to getting up and out in the morning. But sometimes mistakes are made. On the drive to work this morning ,my cell phone rings.
Beth: "We forgot Duckies, Bobo, and Pillow! You forgot to remind me to get them!"
Me: "You forgot to remember to get them! You...forgot to remind me to remind you!" (You know, when I actually said that, it didn't seem half as dumb as it does after reading it.)
Beth: "It's your fault you didn't remind me."
Me: "Uh...now is not the time for blame. You know, like the President says."
Me: "I'll go home at lunch and get Duckies, Bobo and Pillow and bring them to him."
So, I'll admit to dropping the ball. She's right - I usually either get the Big Three Items or remind her to do so. More mistakes like this, and I'll be flying a cargo plane full of rubber dogshit out of Hong Kong.