The Dad traveled south for a family funeral today, so when school was out and I was done chattin' up FloJo, The Daughters and I decided to go visit my niece at her babysitter's house. Oh! Her babysitter just happens to be my momma, but my niece is such a danged cute one-year old that she totally trumps my momma!
As my niece and her chauffeur and personal milk supply (who happens to be my sister) were getting ready to leave, my momma asked if anyone wanted to go out to eat. Since the day ended in Y, that pretty much guaranteed that I was in no mood to cook and subsequently, clean up from said cooking, so I said "Hellz to the Yeah!" and we all proceeded to our favorite local greasy spoon - where their special is a beef patty smothered in fresh-cut fries smothered in brown gravy. Shhhh --- if you listen carefully, you can hear my arteries hardening!
Luckily for The Dad (and us too, I guess!), he pulled into town and joined us. We had a great time sitting down with the fam and enjoying our cholesterol intake. Daughter 1, who is always prepared, brought in her library book and when the conversation turned to the newsy-side, she began reading. I warned her when she took it in that she was responsible for it. Having left a library book in Galveston and the pediatrician's office and the ball park and The Dad's office has taught me that while the kid reads way above my level, she's a forgetful sort. I was one proud momma when she grabbed her library book and excused herself to the bathroom. If she remembers to bring it back out with her, I'll probably get all misty-eyed!
After The Dad and my momma and I discussed the whole Lady-Gaga in an egg business, Daughter 2 announced she was full. When I glanced at her plate, I saw that she had at least a half an order of fries still left! It is pert-near a deadly sin to leave any fries uneaten at this joint, so I indulged in one of my more favorite deadly sins - gluttony - and finished eating her fries. Dipping them in left over gravy from everyone else's plates. Waste not and your waist will not be getting any skinnier is what I always say.
Before I could start licking the plates, The Dad and my momma decided that we needed to leave. The Dad walked toward the front to pay and Daughter 2 was right behind (because they give candy out to the little kids as the mommas and daddies pay). My momma stopped at a table to visit with some old friends who said (no kidding), "Is this your little girl?" and pointed at me, with gravy on my nose nonetheless -- I did get one little lick in before the bus boy tackled our table. Then I ran into an old co-worker and we chit-chatted about who had gained weight since we last worked together (me - still with gravy on my nose). Then I joined my family out at the van.
Since The Dad had just gotten back into town, Daughter 2 loaded up with him and off they went. My momma and I got into my van and I headed to take her back to her house. After my front tires left the parking lot, but my back tires were still on the property, I remembered that we had - indeed - two daughters. One daughter was in The Dad's car. One daughter was...
... still in the bathroom!
I threw the van into reverse and dashed into the cafe. I could only imagine how distraught Daughter 1 would be, standing alone in the dining area crying for her momma who had abandoned her. I feared the looks of disdain from the patrons and the looks of absolute disgust from the people I knew in the restaurant! I was mortified at having to explain to human services - who would surely be notified already - that I hadn't abandoned my precious daughter, first-born, fruit of my own loin.
I raced back into the restaurant and scanned the place. No sign of Daughter 1. I sprinted to the bathrooms and knocked on the door of the one-seater.
Daughter 1 called back, "I'm in here!"
"Almost done, honey?"
"With pooping or chapter 6?"
Eventually Daughter 1 was finished pooping - and with chapter 7 even - and exited from the little ladies room - none the wiser of her momma's neglect and abandonment.
We had just dropped my giggling momma off at her house when Daughter 1 - in her most concerned voice said, "Momma? Do you love me?"
Oh no. She knew.
"Honey. I do love you!"
"Will you always love me?"
"Always, honey! Always!" Mentally, I was calculating how I would explain this to her teacher and the school counselor when she'd spill the beans tomorrow at school.
"Is there anything I would do that would make you stop loving me?
"Never, honey!" I began mentally going through the counseling centers in our town, trying to decide which one would be the least judgmental of a poor, tired, overstuffed, drunk-on-brown-gravy-over-all momma!
I pulled the van over and reached across the mini-table between the front seats and grabbed Daughter 1 into my arms. She sighed a little sigh of relief.
"So we can go back, Momma? And you won't be mad?"
"Honey - I'll probably get take-out quite a bit because I just cannot live without that gravy, but I doubt I'll go back into that place."
"But, Momma! How will I get my library book from the bathroom?"
And then I sighed a little sigh of relief. I turned the van back toward the restaurant to retrieve Daughter 1's book, chuckling that we had dodged an hour or so in therapy sessions. I pulled to the front door and in no time at all, Daughter 1 retrieved her book and we were on our way home.
I have no idea how she became such a forgetful little thing. Probably The Dad.
