I took the morning off to run errands and have coffee with Peter and Christian. Bump was going to come too, with Lumpyhead and Lula, but a menacing weather pattern and impending nap kept the baby (and her father) at home. I took Lumpyhead and was halfway to the coffee shop before I realized I didn't have the diaper bag with me. I am awesome.
But the coffee shop had milk and cookies, books, and most importantly, Aunt Bob's Little Guy to keep Lumpyhead entertained and fed. The milk cup had a lid, and the barista gave it to me for free. (Woot! Free! Inner Dutch Girl is very happy!) Any savings was immediately undercut by the $1.50+ I dumped into the tip cup. (Inner Dutch Girl is baffled. She stands in stunned silence, her arms still raised in disrupted celebration.)
I love coffee with Peter and Christian. The conversation is easy and transports me to the days when we were all Close Up instructors, even though our topics are now punctuated by yelling at little boys and our beverages don’t contain any alcohol. Christian will become a father in January, and I’m squishy with excitement for him. Today Aunt Bob even joined us (hooray!) and I always feel so damn inclusive when we - the Asian woman, the black man and the Jew - let the blond white girl sit with us.*
On the way home, Lumpyhead started complaining about his milk after I heard the thump of his cup dropping. He continued to whine even though I reassured him that everything was okay, I would get it for him once we got home, but I was driving now and couldn’t pick it up. Before the recent fender-bender I probably would have just reached behind my seat and groped for the damn cup, but I’m a little gun-shy now; plus it was raining. I started to worry that maybe the milk had spilled all over the floor and that was the reason Lumpyhead was so worked up about it.
When we got home, the still-lidded cup was on the car floor, straw removed, and Lumpyhead was sitting in a puddle of milk. I told him I was sorry he was wet, sorry for making him stew in it, and I guiltily grabbed some napkins.
I handed the milk back to him, briefly wondering how he got that wet when the lid was still on, and mopped up his lap. The physics were quickly revealed when Lumpyhead yanked out the straw, turned the cup upside down, and sprinkled himself with as many drops of milk as he could shake out of the cup.
I immediately retracted my apology.
And took away the milk.
My car now smells like wet car seat and fabreeze. Given the weather, I assume by this afternoon it will smell like musty car seat, fabreeze and stale milk. By the weekend it will smell like sour milk and mold. Awesome.
Poor car. At least it passed inspection, even with the accident damage.
*Right. Aunt Bob goes to coffee with Peter and Christian more often than I do, so they’re really letting me join them, but it still makes me happy like a thousand unicorns farting rainbows.
6 comments:
Mmmmm. The smell of curdling milk in a hot car.
Mmm. Musty seat, curdled milk, febreze, and rainbow farts. That's one hot date-mobile.
Hahahaha! Farting rainbows...
Ugh. Soon after we got our car (Ford Freestyle), which only has access to the third row by folding the second row down and flipping it forward, we went out to lunch with friends and Petunia. Full car. The restaurant gave us a styrofoam cup with a lid and a straw for lunch. Petunia didn't drink all the milk, so we put the cup in the cupholder in front of the second row for the ride home. Upon exiting the car, flipping the second row forward caused the whole seat to smash the styrofoam cup to bits, spraying milk all over the upholstery and in every plastic crevice of the center console/second row cupholder. Luckily, it was December, and after we soaked up as much milk as we could, we left the windows down for it to freeze out. We thanked our lucky stars that it wasn't August and wouldn't go sour.
If the Febreeze doesn't work, maybe Nature's Miracle? It makes the smell of dog pee on carpet go away. Not that I would know anything about that...
My daughter went through a stage of shaking milk out of the spout in her sippy cup, while I was in the shower. I'd come out of there and there'd be mini-puddles all over the lounge rug. She got over it, but now that she's turned 2 I think she's remembered how easy it was to get entertaining reactuions outa me...
Peter? Christian? One of them is Jewish! How does that work exactly?
Is it Peter Goldman? If so, I went to elementary school with him. I was fairly certain he was the only Jewish Peter ever.
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