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Carol Perkins: In a hurry If I slowed down and paid attention to details, my life would be much simpler. Won't happen. Just won't happen. Carol Perkins writes following what should have been a simple job: Getting a four year old from Edmonton to Brentwood Next previous Carol Perkins column: The Furniture Truck By Carol Perkins In a Hurry One day last week I must have attracted a black cloud. My grandson had been visiting since Sunday, so I was taking him back home Wednesday afternoon. (He lives in Brentwood, TN.) I loaded his luggage and his toys and then him. Those who have dealt with car seats and four-year-olds know the routine. First, the child claimed to be able to "do it myself." What he was planning to do was bypass the car seat and dash into the back and have grandma play, "get me out if you can." "Get up here in your seat," I ordered. "I'm getting something." "Well, get it quickly, Joseph. We have to go see your Mommy." "I'm looking." What kid doesn't like roaming around, out of arm's reach, in a vehicle? "Hurry, we have to pick up Mema." (That is his great-grandmother). "I'm looking for something!" This went on until I headed to the back seat and he met me on the way to his. After stopping for my mother, she noticed that the cup holders in the console were standing in liquid. If each had been a home, it would have been flooded. I had removed paper cups left from a trip to MacDonald's the previous night and put them into my mother's garbage can without noticing what was left behind. Evidently, the bottoms to both cups leaked. I drove into the parking lot at Save-a-Lot and looked into the back for a rag, old shirt, or something to soak up the liquid while I was fishing out coins, earrings, and a necklace or two. Finally, off I went with my sticky hands on the steering wheel. No sooner had I gotten back out on the highway did Joseph reach for his paper cup of juice with the lid, evidently, half on. I heard, "Cici!" I flipped my head back to see that half of what was left of the drink was now on the floor in a puddle. "I'll clean it up when we stop," I assured him. His hands were now sticky too. I was going to take the route through Scottsville, so I pulled off at a Jr. Foods in Glasgow, retrieved another cloth, cleaned up the mess and went inside for a drink. Back on the road. "CiCi, the movie isn't working." Did I mention that he was watching Scooby Doo for the fifth time in three days? "Joseph, what is on the screen if it's not the movie?" By then I had gone another mile. "It's an art project." I pulled off onto a gravel road, got into the back seat once again, and pushed the play button. What else could happen? We were to meet Carla at the Cracker Barrel. Joseph, like most kids, loves the little butter containers, and I saw nothing wrong with putting half the butter on his chocolate chip pancakes and letting him spoon out the rest with his fingers and eat it. What grandparent wouldn't allow this? Then his mother showed up. Naturally, he found a toy in the store. A dragon and a wooden snake. "You can have one," I said. My mother reminded me that the dragon was eating the snake, so one without the other would end the game. She was right, and they did keep him busy while we shopped at the mall. So wrapped up in his dragon routine, he let out a huge growl and evidently frightened the clerk in one of my favorite stores. "Oh, little man," she said as I was checking out, "that big growl made me jump out of my skin." She told me at least three times how she heard his dragon noise and it scared her. "I'm not used to boys. I have three girls." I assumed they must have been quiet girls. After passing out hugs and kisses, Carla and Joseph went home and my mother and I headed back to Edmonton. By the time we were in Bowling Green, we both needed a snack, so I drove through Culver's Frozen Custard. I stationed my root beer paper cup with a lid in the cup holder while I indulged in my custard on the way to I-65. Just as I made the right turn down the ramp, my root beer turned left, jumped out of the holder and fell under my feet. In attempting to see where it went, I tilted my custard and the raspberry juice met my shirt. I waited until there was no traffic behind me, pulled over on the side of the interstate, put what was left of my drink securely in the cup holder, and plopped my feet in the ocean of root beer under them. When I got home, I looked at the sticky mess on the floor of the back seat, the sticky mess on the driver's side of the front seat, and the sticky mess in the cup holders. "I'll deal with this tomorrow." Later, looking at myself in the mirror, I saw a tired looking woman who tries to be, as Alysia Keys sings, "Super Woman." If I slowed down and paid attention to details, my life would be much simpler. Won't happen. Just won't happen. (email Carol at cperkins@scrtc.com. Her book, Let's Talk About, is available at Ivy Bookstore, 402 Rogers RD, Glasgow, KY) This story was posted on 2010-05-02 04:56:02
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Carol Perkins: The Furniture Truck Carol Perkins: Color Me Beautiful Carol Perkins: Willie Carol Perkins: I witnessed the Civil Rights Movement Carol Perkins, Perfect Vision Carol Perkins: Affairs to Remember Carol Perkins: The Teepee Carol Perkins: Addicted to the Soaps Carol Perkins: The Money Line Carol Perkins: The Lizard in the Playroom View even more articles in topic Carol Perkins |
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