dumbfounded

any way you slice it, liam just didn't have the best day yesterday.  it didn't help matters that i was totally preoccupied, throwing almost every last thing we own into the back of our car for an eleven-day trip down to the beach.  i had made the wise decision to pack our cooler first -- with the milk, eggs, orange juice -- and it was a visual reminder of how long it was taking me to get the rest of our act in gear.  there it sat, in the middle of the kitchen floor, while i gathered board games, swimsuits, toiletries, and other miscellaneous items that i could have totally packed the night before but had instead played scrabble on my iphone with chris who was sitting five feet away from me on the other couch.  but i digress.

kids have a funny way of picking up on their parents' distraction, and my children jumped at the chance to entertain themselves in ways i normally would not tolerate, especially since chris was at work all day and i had no back-up disciplinarian anywhere around me.  as it turns out, i had sent susanna into the bathroom to brush her teeth, and while she did so, she asked liam to hop around her while keeping his eyes closed.  brilliant, right?  as any loving brother would do, he obliged, and in doing so, stumbled and crashed into her, sending them both into a heap of tangled arms and legs.  i rushed to the scene to find her wailing on the tile floor with her toothbrush flung halfway down the hall and a nice trail of blue toothpaste on our light tan carpet.

as i scrubbed the stain with a rag and carpet cleaner and just a tinge of frustration, i asked liam if what he had done was smart.  "no," he admitted.  "i won't do it again.  i promise."

a mere five minutes later, i sent him out to put a few things in the mailbox.  no sooner did the front door close that i heard more wailing.  this time, i rushed to the scene to find him sprawled across the brick steps, rubbing his skinned-up knees.  after i kissed his boo-boos and patched them up with a few lightning mcqueen band-aids, he explained that he had jumped as high as he could to see if he could clear all three steps down to the sidewalk.  so i, again, asked him if what he had done was smart.  "no," he admitted.  "i won't do it again.  i promise."

miraculously, we finally did get on the road.  about an hour into our trip, he was rummaging through his vacation bible school goody bag and found a bottle of bubbles. "how do you get this open?" he wanted to know.  i was about to explain to him the whole righty-tighty-lefty-loosey thing before i came to my senses.  "honey, you really don't need to be playing with that in the car.  if it's opened it might spill all over --"

"oops," he said.  wordlessly, i handed him a tissue to clean it up.

i sat there in driver's seat, headed down I-40 at 75 miles per hour, my thoughts racing as fast as the mile markers flew past me.  without even realizing i was speaking out loud, i said, "i wonder how many times i have to remind you to be smart."

and then, from the back seat: "it's looking like more than three."