Distracted.

The whole way home, I pictured the worst, and tried to determine if I had been careless.

Upon entering the grocery store, Riley noticed, for the first time, that mass of little vendor machines by the door. You know - mostly gumballs, a few huge gobstoppers, plastic bubbles holding fake spider rings. He was interested. I searched for something appropriate - yes, bouncy balls. Perfect. I thought back to being allowed the occasional gumball as a kid

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The above blurb is the first urge I have had to write something here in... well, I don't know how long. You can check the archives and count for me. But the small amount of time I tried to grab for this has been stolen by my children who have decided that naps are for pussies and were only willing to sit for two paltry episodes of the Backyardigans and just spilled A LOT of dried beans all over my kitchen floor (with gleeful cackles while doing so) and are now screaming about going outside to jump on the trampoline and I have relented, feeling guilty, so I have to go find pants (for them, not me) but I can't find any underwear for Riley because he has pooped or peed in I swear to God every pair he owns because he has forgotten that toilets exist and oh shit, now they are in the basement with me literally tearing things apart.

So I have to go do all that and dinner and baths and all I really want is a shower and to go to bed. But if you must know the ending to the story I was going to tell, you will have to be satisfied with knowing that it involved Riley chasing a dropped bouncy ball (yellow and pink!) into the middle of the parking lot where a car was being driven toward him, very slowly and about 50 feet away, but I calmly freaked the fuck out anyway, but that's over. More important is that after all that trauma, our bouncy ball survival rate since coming home a few hours ago is only 50%. So while I've convinced myself that CPS is not about to come knocking on my door, I am pretty sure that the Bouncy Ball Protection Agency is giving me the serious stinkeye.

You know what? I'm pretty sure the story came out better that way.

Comments

[Jill]

Ok Robyn, sorry to say this, but seriously, you thought it would be smart to buy Riley a bouncy-ball at a grocery store??? I mean as soon as you said those words in your post, I immediately pictured him going ape-shit-crazy chasing the fucking thing around, going up and down the aisles and at the check out stand screaming his head off. UUUUmmmmmmm, Yeah.

[Betsy]

I'm so glad it turned out OK. Those bouncy balls are funny, you never know which way they're going to bounce.

[Heidi]

This is like a parental public service announcement. The more you know.

I can totally relate to the no-spare-second and please-just-leave-me-be-I-want-to-sleep thing. Too bad they can't get a job doing THAT.