A few weeks ago, I enrolled the kiddos in a new gymnastics class at the YMCA. I figured it would be a great way to burn off some of the abundant energy in our home. After naps today we got our very enthusiastic little selves together and rushed to the Y. The children excitedly chatted about the balance beam, learning to flip and "those two sticks we swing on." Once we arrived, we discovered we were early: two weeks early! Most classes start the first week of each month, ours apparently is an exception.
The children were crestfallen, so we went up two flights of stairs to watch the "big girl" gymnasts work out for a few minutes before leaving.
As we were reloading the car for the second time in 10 minutes in 93 degree weather, K whined, "Maamaa, it's sooo hot! I weally don't like hot."
"I'm so (cough cough, for effect) thiwrstee, Mommy (cough cough)," P added.
"Mommy, (smack smack dry mouth for effect) I weally need a dwink" R said.
What is it about the heat that makes everything more frustrating?
I then had the great idea that a trip to Kroger would be an ideal substitute for an afternoon of gymnastics. (Not really, I just needed to go and we were on that side of town.) The kids protested until I bribed them with the promise of juice boxes ( a rare treat).
They behaved beautifully in the grocery store. It appeared we had overcome our disappointing afternoon, until we started to exit Kroger and were met with torrential rains. I stood at the exit and considered my options, then decided to just make a run for it. I dashed through the parking lot straight toward the big black Yukon as the children squealed. I pulled up on the handle of the rear door, confused as to why my clicker wasn't working. Then I glanced and the tag and realized it was not MY black Yukon. I was parked 2 rows over and 6 cars up. ARGH!
We took off running again and just as we arrived, drenched, to the rear of my car, the rain slowed down to a trickle. Wet children. Wet groceries. Wet Mommy.
The kids got their juice boxes, the rain subsided for me to unload groceries at home and the gymnastics lesson that wasn't was not mentioned again. I guess truly, all is well that ends well.