… and other things.
It’s the weekend. That means – almost invariably – that some of my kids will decide they ought to visit, and they ought to bring assorted grandchildren. And of course, they need to be picked up at the subway station.
That’s all fair enough. Mundane, even. But today was quite a different story.
I drew the short straw and was elected to pick up my middle daughter and 5-year old grandson. I get to use my car as for some inexplicable reason the child seat and baby seat are still in it from last weekend. 20 minutes later, I arrive at the ‘kiss and ride’ exactly on time and am pleasantly surprised to see them both there are ready to get into my car. Door opens, grandson throws up in the back seat.
Undeterred, we drive home with much vocal misery expressed from the back seat (and some mental misery from the front seat), and deposit the passengers.
Thanks to the miracle of uncoordination (all my kids have working phones), it’s now time to go back to the same subway station and pick up my eldest daughter, 5-year old granddaughter, and 3-month old granddaughter. This time, Mrs. B. volunteers to go get them. She’s going to take my car (with the right seats and partially cleared vomit) to get them.
Surprise!! While driving back from the subway, the baby throws up in the back seat of my car.
It’s 30 minutes later and time to go to the train station to pick up eldest son. I ‘volunteer’ for the task. He arrives, but you had better believe I asked if he was going to throw up before I opened the door to let him in. We arrive home without incident.
Two out of three is good most of the time – but not for this!