I had the distinct privilege of going to Costco with all three of my boy-children today. Our food supplies had dwindled down to nothing. And my enormous bottle of vanilla was empty and lying in the recycling bin. It was an emergency.
It was past 3pm by the time we pulled into our parking spot. It would be 4.30 by the time I got home. And I had nothing ‘on the docket’ for my daily ‘love‘. Mere seconds after wondering what I was going to take a picture of, a woman emerged from Costco, pushing a cart containing a tell-tale paper-wrapped package: flowers.
I do love flowers, always have. But did I really want to spend money on flowers just so I could take a picture of them for a silly made-up blog post?
So we navigated the madness that is Costco and, right before subjecting myself to the madness that is check out, I stopped at the flower bins. They had tulips. For $10. I looked at the yellow ones. They weren’t calling my name. No, this thoroughly selfish gesture necessitated that I purchase….pale pink tulips. For the lone woman in a house of four boys.
With flowers in hand, I pushed my cart full of boys and food towards the checkout. Percy grabbed the flowers with his little claws. He summarily snapped the stems of two of my tulips. I was crushed. I paid for my loot and guided my posse towards the exit, where the guy scanned my cart to make sure I hadn’t stolen anything. He helped me cover the flowers with paper wrapping. And then he dropped them on the floor.
Would there be anything left by the time I got home?
We got in the car and drove home. When I merged onto Crowchild, traffic was backed up for what looked like MILES. Percy was wailing. And the Gort was singing – on nonstop repeat – ‘the silent E at the end of the word, end of the word, end of the word, the silent E at the end of the word, makes the vowel say its name.’ Or something like that. He’d learned it on the Starfall website. I was simultaneously annoyed and intrigued. I’d never heard this rule before! And then I thought of words with a silent ‘e’ at the end. Hope! Cue! By George, I’d learned something.
Just as I was about to go out of my mind from listening to the baby scream while my nearly seven year old strained to reach the high ‘F’ of ‘end’, I looked at the crumpled, dropped flowers on the seat beside me. ‘I have flowers,’ I consoled myself.
Many minutes later we pulled up to the curb in front of our house. I doled out yogurt to the hungry beasts while I stuck the flowers in water and grabbed the camera. I clicked the shutter a few times and turned my attention back to young Percy, whose face and hands were covered in yogurt. I plopped him in the bath and, two seconds later, the Gort ran downstairs to tell me his middle brother had injured himself while attempting to build a bridge….with a mattress.
‘Can you stay here and watch the baby while I check on Henners?’ I asked him. I ran upstairs, grabbed the Hen and carried him downstairs.
‘Percy pooped in the tub,’ the Gort announced when I re-entered the bathroom. My oldest blondie had taken my purple scarf and wrapped it around his eyes, so he wouldn’t have to look at his baby brother’s ‘matter’ floating in the tub. So much for supervising the little guy.
‘At least I have flowers’, I whimpered, as I pulled the babe from the tub.