After 5 hours of sleep (which is more than I get some days), I did the school run and determinedly headed off to the gym. Half way there, I get a distressed phone call from a friend who’s lost her way and is late to teach a Baby First Aid/CPR course at the Mummy-Baby organisation where I volunteer. I made a detour and offered to bring her there.
Anything to get out of the gym, eh? *bad girl, bad girl*
I sat through the First Aid/CPR class (which I will post later) which I found extremely useful but before the class was over, I looked at the time and shock, horror, I was late in picking Tee up from school!
Driving like a fearless teenager on speed knowing no danger, I raced every car on the road till I screeched the brakes at Tee’s school. I have always promised her that I will not be late, you see. And she has reminded me many a time at that.
Thankfully, bless her heart, Tee’s best friend at school and Mom waited with her in class till that mad woman with hair that came straight out of the washing machine spin cycle showed up. Me.
Tee was sooooooooo happy to see me. In whatever state I was. That is true love, ladies and gentlemen.
And of course, I hadn’t even thought of what to feed her for lunch by then so we impulsively made a trip to hamburger city.
There were no parking spots at peak hour lunch so I double parked (Sshhh….) and explained to Tee that we couldn’t eat in despite her really wanting to because there were no parking spots and if we parked here where the yellow line is, the police would take our car away. As quick as I could, snatched her out of the car seat, banged fists for burgers; almost stumbled with toddler, bags and burgers on the way out, then arrived back at car.
“I want to eat my burger now. I’m hungwy…”
“No, let’s eat it when we get home. It’s only 5 minutes.”
“Can I drink my Milo now?”
“Hurry, Tee…get in. Put your safety belt on. NOW.”
“I need to eat my burger NOW. I’m hungwy, Mama!”
As I hurriedly belted her up with my hippo ass sticking out of the backseat, a big tall burly man with an earing and an unfriendly, mean face approached us. Slow motion. Shit. My eyes met his as my hands fumbled on the belts (note to self – time to practise baby seat belt with eyes closed). My eyes did not leave him, and he walked composedly right past us. Slow motion.
Finally, when he was ten feet away from the car, my eyes diverted to the blasted seat belt. Click. All of me bounced into the driver’s seat, causing the car suspension to falter, then click again for the car lock.
Check pulse rate. I am dripping with sweat. Then from behind,
“Mummy!!! I need my cheeseburger!”
By now, I had stopped worrying of smeared cheeseburger on my car. I unwrapped the yellow and red plastic wrap and heard giggles behind.
We drove home whilst my mind loaded itself with a million unimaginable thoughts and all the things that I must not forget this week. Bloody traffic. Between pendulum swings of driving concentration and sneaking peeks at the baby mirror to check on Tee, my fingers tapped as I counted the minutes before we got home. It seemed like a lot more. All is cool behind for the next 15 minutes.
“Mummy, I dropped my cheeseburger!”
“Well, I’m driving honey. I guess you can kiss your burger goodbye.”
“But I need my cheeseburger. Can you get it for me, please? I’m hungwy…”
“Tee, Mummy’s driving right now. You will just have to wait. Anyway, you can’t eat that anymore. It’s dirty. I’ll give you Mummy’s burger when we get home, OK?
“No. I want MY cheeseburger. It’s not dirty….Daddy washed the car already.”
“I want my cheeseburger..!!! I WANT MY CHEESEBURGER!!”
Great. Exactly what I needed.
I practised my contortionist moves and tried searching for the fucking burger at the next red light. Negative. The whining continued. My ears could take it no longer. After I raised my voice over some private conversation between us, I pulled over at a taxi shoulder, climbed into the backseat to look for the fucking dropped cheeseburger.
“Where did you drop it?” My search got more frantic.
“I can’t find it. Are you sure you dropped it? Where? Where exactly?”
“There!” She pointed but I gave up and got back into the driver’s seat. The whining escalated. I asked her if she had thrown her burger out of the window but don’t remember the window ever opening unless in my stressed state of mind actually missed the sound of wind heaving in. She started crying and begging me to find her cheeseburger because she was ‘apparently’ wayly hungwy. There was nothing more I could do but to focus and continue our journey home.
All this time. My mind was working hard to crack the code of the missing burger. We arrived home. I unlocked her and began the search for her dropped burger again. I must have removed the floor mat ten times. I looked under her car seat. I checked every nook in the back seat. I finally grabbed our bags and asked her if she would like some chips instead?
“OK!!” she grabbed the whole pack of chips and headed towards the lift door. Why didn’t I fucking think of that earlier?! DUH…
I came in to unload the bags only to discover that they had missed out on MY fries! Not that I am a fan of fries but I paid for it. I resorted to calling the store to complain, to finally yell at somebody. Really, really yell. But I realised I didn’t even have the fucking receipt to get a phone number and really couldn’t be arsed to search another source. A few minutes later, I found my fries which they didn’t leave out after all. Shit. I was really losing it.
When the Hubs got home that night, I told him that he might find a piece of cheeseburger in the car and related the events of the day. Before I could even finish, he disapprovingly rushed off to search for the missing cheeseburger (a stickler for no mess, no dropped food and no dirt. We have a toddler, like HELLO?). 15 minutes later, he was back. He couldn’t find it either.
We formed the conclusion that the only logical explanation for the case of the missing cheeseburger is that Tee had eaten it all up.
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