So, this morning is standard Friday fare: our morning stumble around and spill Cheerios all over the floor, late arrival for class, the "oh-no-stop-that-sit-down" record on repeat for Super Toddler's weekly struggle with Circle Time, and a grotesquely ungraceful exit into the parking lot, complete with Super Toddler falling and scraping his knee for about the 237287th time this summer.
But then, we decide to shake things up. (And no, I am not at the scream part yet. Hold your horse there!) I decide that the time has come to buy Awkward Dad a honest-to-goodness Father's Day gift, and not the standard card and coupon for a back rub that he has gotten the previous 3 years. So, we head to the mall, not because we need to go to the mall to acquire this particular item, but because I naively thought it would be fun for the three of us to have the "experience" of going shopping for the gift. Yeah....you would think I would have more wisdom after 3 years of this mom-thing, but I am not Awkward Mom for nothing.
What's that? No, I am not going to tell you what his gift is! We still have to give it to him and there is a slight (ever so slight) chance he might read this. Or more likely, Awesome Dad might read it and tell him. So mum's the word, folks!
So, where was I? Oh yes, the mall. Well, look. This story isn't called Awkward Mom vs. the Mall. It went as you might expect and I am too freshly embarrassed to relive it anyway. Let's just say, when Super Toddler says he wants to ride the escalator, he really really means it. Needless to say, I am exhausted after that particular "experience," and yet still have to do the whole pack screaming children into the car, drive home while listening to screaming children, pull into the apartment parking lot as the screaming is finally dying down, try to remove sleeping children from the car without causing waking and more screaming, fail, stumble up the stairs (who's idea was it to move to a 3rd floor apartment anyway? Mine? Oh, nevermind.), and collapse into the house. All is going according to plan when I reach "collapse into the house." Instead of that, I walk in to be faced with this:
In case, this picture isn't very clear, here is another:
This is a birthday balloon from Super Toddler's birthday. Super Toddler's birthday is in February. While certainly not at fighting weight, this balloon is still floating around the house and has been freaking me out for about 4 months now. I am convinced it is filled with whatever powers the Space Shuttle. Super Toddler and Awesome Toddler regularly take it on parade through the house, banging it against surfaces as varied as the stove, wall corners, Super Baby's face, light fixtures, and closet doors. Through this weekly trial of fire, this thing has shown no signs of popping or of even slowing down. I think it might be evil.
By the way, the mysterious trek down the hallway was not self-lead, as my initial reaction might have indicated. Upon further investigation, I discover the culprit:
Despite discovering this power behind the throne, I still think that birthday balloon is evil. Shop the Party Store accordingly, readers. That is all I am saying.
We will now return you to your regular web surfing. This was only a test. A test of the mom warning system for evil balloons coming to get your children in the night. This was only a test. This time....