Today we went to meet Daddy for lunch. It was supposed to be fun, a special treat we don't do all the time. It didn't start off so well and it ended even worse.
Spilling milk all down your shirt was no fun for anyone. Sadly, I don't carry around extra clothes for you anymore so you just had to keep that one on. Also, whoever said, "Don't cry over spilled milk," obviously wasn't around a toddler, on a hot day, with dried milk on his shirt.
Ending the meal with a free Frosty was nice, even though you yelled, "Don't eat-it-all!" every time I took a bite. Way to make me feel like even more of a chunk.
However, when we got to Target (an errand we were running after lunch) and you crawled up on the center console (a no-no), picked up my very full cup of Mr. Pibb, ignored my, "No! Sam, put the drink down! Get off that! Put it dow-....", I'd say it ended badly.
I didn't react like the calm, cool, collected mom I am. Ahem.
I groaned, probably said something like, "Ohhhh Saaam. Ugh." BUT, I quickly caught myself and reassured you that it was ok, I could clean it up.
You were completely flipping out. Full-on tears, yelling at me to clean it up and shaking those hands. I felt pretty bad thinking I made you feel like you messed up big time. No, no. You were upset because you didn't get a sip of the drink. After trying to explain 3 or 18 times that you couldn't have a sip because it all spilled, I finally just stuck you in the cart and headed inside.
I had about 4 napkins in the van. You probably don't know how much Mr. Pibb 4 napkins can soak up. The answer is not a whole lot.Now I have a roll of paper towels in there.
Thankfully, I thought to use these to catch the Pibb that was spilling onto the floor.
Do you still want a sip?
I love you (even more than clean, dry carpet in the iVan AND Mr. Pibb),