I find my inability to get myself and the two kids out of the house in less than 20 minutes one of the most frustrating parts of parenting. I am sure we are ready to go, we simply need shoes, my purse, phone, keys and we are out the door. Eighteen minutes later we are still in the house. At this point there has likely been one, or all, of the following; tears, yelling, threats, muttering, pushing, singing, corrections and general chaos. (And there is no reason to tell you which human undertakes which action – because we have all engaged in all of them at one point or another.)
By the time we get to the minivan I am usually worn out. But I have to be on my game or I make the silly mistake of allowing Little Dude to step into the van while I am not holding onto some part of his body. If that happens – well – game on! Front seat, back seat, passenger seat, driver’s seat, over the back of a seat, visor down, radio tuned, laughter and giggles as I walk around the outside of the van trying to think of a new tactic that will get him to stop and wishing my arms were six inches longer and my reflexes were more Ninja-esque.
Today was different. We were simply leaving the house to walk to a playground. The kids were fairly well-rested and even ate a snack. I also managed a mid-day mental break so I was feeling creative and energetic. I used a combination of my newest parenting tricks (the ones that seem to be working this week and probably won’t work at all next) to get us out the door relatively quickly and peacefully.
As we were walking up the driveway I had a little self-congratulatory monologue playing in my head. We stopped to watch a squirrel, and I felt great. We walked 10 more feet and I felt something drop from above stinging my neck and splashing on my shoulder.
It is official, I have been shat upon by a squirrel.