There’s A Country Song in Here Somewhere

Not to be all Seinfeld about it but what is UP with people driving in the rain? We’ve had a stretch of sunny weather, feels like months, has probably been days, and today it’s raining and people are speeding! and honking! and tailgating! Do they think if they drive like jackasses they will get there sooner so their cars will get less wet? I mean, you’re driving, right? You’re commanding a giant hunk of metal that weighs thousands of pounds. Probably with your Precious Preciouses inside, right? You have that BABY ON BOARD sign so I guess that means I should just let you drive like a jerk and get some practice with my Special Swear Words?

“Oh – for the…flipping…foozeball!”
“What’s a foozeball?”
“A foozeball is someone who doesn’t signal and then parks in front of me to drop her kid off at school because god forbid Precious Preciousness should get a drop of spring rain on her brand new Adidases.”
“What’s an adidas?”
“It’s a shoe.”
“What’s a shoe?”
“Fresco, tell your brother what a shoe is.”

Call me a no-count nervous nellie but if it’s raining and the roads are slippery because of all the oil because of all the heat we’ve had, you should not gamble with your – and my! – life by driving faster in the hope that you will avoid all the accidents that are sure to happen in your wake.

In other news, I am relieved to note that we are not the only ones whose children love to look at the fish at Superstore. There were at least three other weary mothers and children there this morning. What more horrible example of the Urban Child’s Disconnect can you find than my 2 year old going, “Hi fishie! Hi fishie! Fishie no say hi!” to the upside down, gasping Tilapia in the grubby tank with 25 other gasping Tilapia. Tilapiae?

“That fishie sad!” says Fresco. “How can you tell?” I ask. “His mouth,” says Fresco.

Oh god. Get me out of the fish isle, please. Here, eat some electric orange, smiling Goldfish (whole grain!) crackers and I promise I will do better things with you the next time your brother is in preschool. Like, go to a river or something.

A few weeks ago, SA and I went to the fundraiser for Trombone’s preschool. It was at a pub so for the ticket price we got a burger and beer and then we got soaked for all our cash but it was For the Kids, so we just took it out of their education fund.

There were lots of silent auction items that we didn’t bid on and 50/50 tickets and raffle baskets and something called a Toonie Toss where you try and hit a bottle of booze with a two dollar coin. I know! Our tablemate won a big bottle of Golden Wedding, which is Albertan? Whiskey.

We won the raffle basket called “Family Fun.” It is as big as a patio table and it contains: a “Transformers” fishing rod (that does not transform, just fishes; very confusing and a teeny bit disappointing), an inflatable boat, oars (whew!), kites, bubble wands (bringing our current count to 17,443), sidewalk chalk (ditto), toboggan passes for a local mountain and lift tickets for Whistler that expire at the end of June. Oh and some Nerf balls. And a box of Pot of Gold chocolates that I suspect one of the teachers donated from her Christmas haul.

When we got home from the fundraiser, we hauled our basket upstairs to our bedroom and forgot about it. As much as you can forget about something as big as a patio table. The kids don’t know about it. We are saving its contents for – well, it depends how we feel. Sometimes we say we are saving it for a rainy day. We could also be saving it for a day when we think they deserve a new toy. The former happens a lot more frequently.

I guess I could give the whole thing to Trombone for his birthday and then I don’t have to worry about shopping for him.

Anyway, it’s up in our room, which has no door and in the past week, Fresco has started playing a game he calls “Going up inna mummy’s room!” where he casts his shifty eyes about, sees the downstairs gate to the stairs is open and runs like hell. He also giggles while he does it so I generally catch him before he makes it to the second floor, let alone the third where our bedroom is, but one of these days he’s going to go all the way and when he gets up there and sees that basket of plastic and excitement he is going to lose his mind. I live in fear of that day.

Where was I going with this? Oh, yes, fishing. No, driving. Wait: driving AND fishing!

We are now starting to firm up plans to drive (and fish) our way across Canada (as far as Manitoba, so, not across Canada really) at the end of July. This morning, SA and I made the mistake of mentioning it in front of the children and now I have two avid outdoorsies on my hands, asking me about camping and driving and fishing and swimming and All Things Canadian Summer, meanwhile I’m thinking: shit. I haven’t been camping in years. Never with kids. How do I lock the tent? Is that even legal?

(I know it’s not legal.)

Also: There is no wine in the Family Fun basket.

So, guys! Do you camp/road trip with your children? Tips? (Don’t say fly.)

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