“Oh, yeah…isn’t it just Hat Day? It doesn’t have to be a crazy hat, does it? Just wear one of your baseball hats.”
“Okay, uhmmm...well, do you know where my abc hat is?”
“Not offhand, honey, can you wear xyz hat?
"No."
"How about 123 hat?"
"No!"
"Well, what about -- "
"No! It has to be my abc hat!"
Well...God help me...there are a few places we can check,” I smiled through clenched teeth. It was Friday of a hellish week as I was preparing to go out of town for business the following week and all that entails; it was also the end of the quarter and all that entails; and furthermore, just that morning I had been the lucky recipient of blue screen of death (computer) and black screen of death (iPhone) and all that entails (at that moment, I didn't even know what "all that entails" was -- and was imagining the worst). I didn’t think I could handle anything more outside of the scope of “normal.”
6 = number of places in the house searched, while muttering under breath
24 = number of baseball hats discovered
4 = number of hats tried on and discarded
9.75 = minutes to accomplish all this
0 = number of hats worn to school
“Where’s your hat, honey?” I sighed at my son as he came out the door. After handing him his abc hat, I had stomped out to the driveway to wait with the other kids for the bus.
“I don’t really feel like wearing a hat after all.”
“Well! ...breathe in....breathe out...you better hustle your little self out here so you don’t miss the bus – it’s coming down the street right now!”
No comments:
Post a Comment