It started out fine. Better than fine, actually. The house was clean. We read a lot. Baby was happy. We ran some errands we'd been planning for days. We visited with an aunt and cousin from out-of-state.
And then the day started to wind down. I was tired, but milk and diapers are pretty essential. One more stop. Good old Wally-Marto.
The kids were angels in the store. Super helpful ones. Putting things in the cart, bringing them to the register, placing them back in the cart, unloading them into the back of the car, putting the cart away...
A gallon of milk was placed on the ledge next to the back seat of the Suburban. (We won't place the blame.)
I saw it there, but it looked secure.
I was way wrong.
A light turned red on me rather suddenly, launching said gallon of milk forward, splitting the container in half, and literally creating a car bomb of humongous proportions. I was in the front (driving obviously) when I felt the cold, sticky spray.
I considered throwing the jug out the window. What else was I going to do as it continued to glug, glug, glug out the side? Instead, we wrapped it in Y's blanket and held it in the safest position...upside down.
Y asked, "Why you using my ba-yanket?"
"Sorry, Honey. It's all we have."
It's going to stink to High Heavens.
But my angel boy, Bubs, sure did his best to help get the car clean.
And how do you think My Robby reacted to the news?
I said, "You're laughing about this?"
His answer: "Well, one of us has to."