Driveway Ticket, Pond Diving, & Chuck E.

[Hey purrreents and youth people - a few social media posts over at Patheos for you if you are interested: one on the video app Vine, and one on the joys and woes of the "disappearing"-photo app that is SnapChat. What else should we talk about?]


Driveway Ticket

Did you know that cops sometimes pull you over in your own driveway? I did. Because it happened to me about an hour ago.

I saw him pass me about a block from my house, pull a u-ey, and follow me right up into my driveway. Lights a blazin. Right in front of the new neighbors I haven't met yet.

"Hi, welcome to the neighborhood. Sometimes policemen follow me to my house and give me citations in my driveway. Nice to meet you."

Luckily my winning smile softened his police heart and he let me go (into my house). Or he heard Beckett saying, "Police!" from the backseat in the sweetest high-pitched voice. Either way, narrowly escaped that one.

And as soon as Beck wakes up from his nap, we're heading straight to Kwik Kar to get our inspection renewed.

Lesson learned, officer. And, hey, thanks for breaking the ice on meeting those new folks.

Pond Diving

If we've been friends since Black Friday of 2011, you may remember that time I accidentally dug through vomit at Walmart in Pocahontas, AR trying to get THE BEST DEAL EVER on sippy cups. You may also remember that those cups were not actually on sale. That price was Walmart's every day low price.

I didn't actually buy the vomit cups that day, but I did go back and get some of the exact same, barf-free ones later. And let me tell you: there is no end to the trouble those dang cups have brought me.

We took one to the park the other day. Beckett was bevving on it as we were feeding the ducks. As soon as he set the cup down, it rolled right on down the hill and into the water.

No big deal. The cup was like $.67 or something stupid.

Except this a toddler we're dealing with, and this was his response to dropping his water:

I just can't express how hard this picture has made me laugh. That cartoony sad face kills me.

So, in good momma fashion, I found the biggest stick I could find and rescued our beloved cup. Because what good mom doesn't keep a cup after seeing it in a pile of vomit and a pond full of duck poo?

I've actually grown strangely attached to this little cup, which is probably the opposite reaction of most human beings, but all the trouble it has caused makes me laugh.

(Remind me just how funny I think it is when my child contracts Giardia.)

Chuck E.

We went to Chuck E. Cheese with Beck for the first time this weekend.

It obviously wasn't Taylor's first time since he worked there in high school. Yep. Employed by Chuck E. himself. He even used to know the special Chuck E. dance. (Back off ladies, he's taken!)

I haven't actually seen it, but I feel confident they still have his "Employee of the Century" plaque displayed somewhere. Probably at the Chuck E. Cheese world headquarters. He really likes it when I bring up his employment history. He'd like it a lot if you asked him about it, too.

Anyway, we went to the Cheese for our neighbor's 3rd birthday.

All we saw all night were little blurs of a white shirt running past yelling, "LIGHTH! CELICOPTER!  CAR! CHOO-CHOO! BALL! PLAY GAMETH!"

It was sensory and sugar overload.

I really don't think we got one picture where Beckett was in focus, not moving 87 miles an hour. 

Ok, maybe we got one.

Is it just me or is the guy on the left the hottest Chuck E. Cheese employee you've ever seen? Don't answer that too enthusiastically unless you want to fight.

By the time we got home and were getting ready for bed, Beckett was standing completely still on his changing table screaming at the top of his lungs.

It was like he couldn't even process the night's events, so his brain shut down every motor function except the screamy one. For about a millisecond, I was concerned Chuck E. had actually broken him. But he's good to go now.

The dude has endless energy but he is so. fun.

Speaking of fun, we're off to get inspected. Wish me luck not getting pulled in the .34 miles from my driveway to Kwik Kar.