Thursday, August 8, 2013

Writing this out can’t do justice to Baby’s facial expressions and total Italian hand gestures. Even when Baby spoke her own language, and it wasn’t close to English, communicating her thoughts and feelings wasn’t a challenge.

“Why did we come here??!?!!”
“Because we need to pick up Baba from soccer.”
“But  I don’t want to.” (cross arms over chest)
“Ok, objection noted. However I’m not leaving here without Baba.”
“But I want to go NOW.”  (emphatically  huff with arms)
Ok. But I don’t. And since I’m the driver…….”
“Hmph. I want to go. Daddy can come get Baba.”
“Well that’s a silly waste of gas. You want to play outside while we wait?” (child's eyes rolling while mother answers)
“NO. Because I don’t want to wait. And I don’t want to be outside.”
(car door opens, grumpy child gets out anyway)
“Make sure you stay where I can see you.”
“I want to go down the hill.”
“Well, I can’t see you at the bottom of the hill so no.”
“But I WANT TO. Why can’t we go home RIGHT NOW?”
“Because I don’t want the police to arrest me for abandoning Baba and I need to see you.”
“WHY DO YOU NEED TO SEE ME?” (insert wailing tears)
“Because mommy just got an Amber alert on my phone and I don’t want the next one to be for you.”
“NO. ONE. IS. GOING. TO. KIDNAP. ME.” (Accent each word with emphatic hand gestures.)
“The way you’re acting now, have to agree with that statement.”
“And the police aren’t coming.”
“Not willing to bank my weekend on that.”
Tears begin anew “Why can’t you come with me down the hill?”
“Hear that snoring? That’s X-Man. And Cinco’s sleeping too. Not leaving them alone in the car.”
“Why not? Why can’t I go home?”
“Because Thomas Wolfe says so.”
“You’re not making any sense and you’re doing it on purpose!”
“MOOOOOOOM!!!!” Full body exasperation.
“So Baba’s practice is almost done, I’m going to go get her and you’re going to wait with the babies in the car.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Yours because you wouldn’t  let me go down the hill.”
]“Uh huh. Well Mac had a high old time while you argued. So….yeah.”
“This isn’t fair!’ Strong sobbing now.
“You’re right.  I am way too nice to put up with this.”
“What does that even mean??? Why didn’t Daddy get Baba?”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why my mother’s helper is named Jose Cuervo.

I perhaps tolerated more arguing than a good mother should, but we were parked, in a crowded parking lot filled with other soccer parents and it was hot. So the windows were down. Both in my car and the cars next to me. And parents were in both of them. They were trying hard to look interested in whatever they were doing and like they didn’t care that I was seriously contemplating selling a child to the gypsies. Or they were just confirming that they were indeed thrilled not to be driving a clown car’s worth of children.

The exchange wasn’t a total waste of time. As I returned to the car, Baba in tow, a dad leaned his head out the window and said “That was better than TV.”

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