When I was a kid, I had a book that was about a little boy who had good and bad luck while he was out on an adventure for the day. It would say something like, "Fortunately, John was able to use a parachute to jump from the plane. Unfortunately, the parachute didn't open. But fortunately, he landed on a big pile of hay." That sort of thing.
Well, I could've written that book about Biscuit yesterday. He was just a little out of sync all day long. Well, maybe all three of us were.
We decided to take Jeff's Barracuda, so he dropped the top and got it ready to go.
Biscuit got dressed, then ran out and got in the back seat.
"What's on his face?" I asked Jeff.
"Looks like peanut butter," Jeff said. "Did you wash his face and brush his teeth?"
"No," I said. "I thought you did."
Back in the house we went. And this was while we were already late.
Fortunately: We started the day with his last baseball game.
Unfortunately: Biscuit just wasn't in the mood to play baseball.
We got an email Friday from the coach that said he had a previous commitment and couldn't make Saturday's game. And I quote, "Parents will need to help out. You know what to do."
He didn't send anyone in his place or anything! He just flat-out didn't show up. So Jeff, another dad and I were pretty much in charge. Jeff manned third base. I was at first, and the other dad pitched. And I'm glad he could pitch because they would've been in trouble if I had to do it.
Our team hit first, and Biscuit's swings were about as lackluster as I've seen them. He didn't hit a single pitch, and the other dad who was pitching was doing a better job than the coach usually does. So both times Biscuit was at bat, he swung three times, missed three times, then had to hit off the tee.
Then our team went into the field. Did I mention that we only had six kids at first bat? A couple more showed up as we were heading out onto the field.
The general rule of thumb with kids this small is to just line them up around the baseline to field the balls. So I put one of our best players on first base, then put Biscuit between first and second. I put our biggest troublemaker between Biscuit and second base. Jeff had the other troublemaker.
My troublemaker is a talented kid, but he's already got quite a mouth on him. He assured all the other kids that he's way better than any of them ever hoped to be. And during this smack-talk, he wouldn't watch the batter. He doesn't listen, either. During the first game, when a batter hit the ball, every kid on the field ran after the ball. Gradually, the kids have learned that whoever the ball comes closest to should be the one to grab it and throw it to first base. But not the boy near me. He ran after every single ball that was hit, no matter where it went.
So one of the first balls hit came toward Biscuit. So Biscuit ran forward to grab the ball. But the bigger, faster kid ran after it, too. The bigger kid grabbed the ball, stepped on Biscuit's foot in the process, then threw the ball to first base.
So Biscuit starts crying. And I wasn't in the mood. So in one of my finer moments as a parent, I said, "You can't cry and play baseball at the same time. If you want to cry, go sit down. If you want to play, get back to your position and watch the batter."
"But Mom," Biscuit whined. "He stepped on my foot."
"Cry or play?" I asked him.
"Play," Biscuit said.
He still didn't hit anything, but at least his time in the field improved some.
Fortunately: We had planned a picnic with some friends. They have a son just four months younger than Biscuit.
Unfortunately: Jeff and Biscuit were STARVING, and we HAD to have lunch.
I picked out a neighborhood park we had never been to, and our friends were going to meet us there at 1:30 p.m. But Biscuit's game was over at 10:45, and we had a long time to go until we could have lunch.
I suggested a snack, but that didn't go over well. Real food was all that would satisfy them.
So we went to a restaurant for lunch. And it was good, but I was grumpy all over again because we were supposed to eat with our friends.
Fortunately: Even after eating, we still had time for Jeff to get a haircut before we were supposed to meet our friends.
Unfortunately: The barber shop was busy, and it took longer than we thought.
Biscuit and I walked across the street to a clothing store while we waited for Jeff to get his hair cut. It seemed like we had been looking around for quite a while, and we hadn't heard from Jeff.
So we walked back to the barber shop, and she was just getting started on Jeff's hair, despite the fact that the shop closed at 1 p.m., and it was 1:12 as Biscuit and I walked in. And I had promised Biscuit we could stop and get him a cookie as a treat to have during the "picnic."
We walked out of the barbershop at 1:25.
We stopped at the store, got the treat and headed to the park.
And then we got lost.
The park is long and skinny and winds around a neighborhood. But it's bordered on two sides by four-lane roads and dang-near impossible to get to.
So of course, we take the wrong turn and can't get to where we need to be. And it's 1:40. And my grumpiness is growing by the second!
We finally get to the park, with no picnic, at 1:50.
We had two and a half hours between Biscuit's ballgame and the picnic, and we were still 20 minutes late! Ugh!
So our friends at their food while we just sat there staring at them. Not at all uncomfortable.
Fortunately: We enjoy hanging out with these friends.
Unfortunately: Biscuit made his friend play Peter Pan and Capt. Hook, which mean sword-fighting with sticks. And can that ever end well?!
Biscuit's wrist got hit, and you would've thought the world was ending. Our boy is very brave, but not at all tough. The other little boy was so upset, and Biscuit's crying wasn't helping him at all. Both boys came back to the picnic table for a while. Some snacks and drinks seemed to make everything better.
They ran around and played until both of them had sweaty heads. And they both seemed sad to leave. So it started out in a questionable way, but ended up okay.
Fortunately: One of my friends retired and has been taking painting lessons. She's done eight paintings and was having an art show at her painting teacher's house.
Unfortunately: Biscuit was tired and sweaty and had no interest whatsoever in art.
There are three things you need to know about the art show:
1. My friend was proud.
2. I was proud for her.
3. I had to have a talk with Biscuit that went something like this: We've been doing fun stuff for you all day, and right now, for a little while, you're going to behave and sit still for Dad and me.
Fortunately: To celebrate the fact that we made it through our crazy day, we stopped by our favorite local frozen yogurt shop.
Unfortunately: When I walked into the bathroom, it suddenly dawned on me that I hadn't put sunblock on Biscuit or me. We were both sunburned.
For the second time in his five years, Biscuit has a sunburn. Well, he HAD a sunburn. Luckily, he has Jeff's skin tone and despite the fact that my face, neck, ears and arms are all still bright pink, Biscuit's sun has soaked into a nice brown tan.
Even so, I still feel terrible for letting him get burned.
"Mom, you realize me getting sunburned is all your fault, right?" Biscuit said to me.
"Yes, I realize that," I said.
It was just that kind of day!
Also, did I mention all the lost objects we had to track down?
As we were leaving the baseball field, I walked past the dugout and saw Biscuit's glove under the bench. And his water bottle was on the far end of the bench. Then I saw his bat lying on the ground by the bleachers. Where was Biscuit, you ask? He was playing on a big hill of dirt with no clue that his stuff was missing.
Then, on the way to the yogurt shop, I looked back to see Biscuit squinting in the sun. Why? Because his sunglasses were at the art show. So we had to go back and get those. About 15-minute drive round trip.
Then, as we were leaving the yogurt shop, Biscuit couldn't find his hat. It was on a table in the bathroom at the yogurt shop.
The boy survived the day, but just barely. Luckily, today was way more laid back. And we were all in a much better place.