My Husband is a Saint
(Friday) July 13, 2007
This morning, when I arrived at my babysitting job, Garfield's mom suggested that I take the boys to the science museum (remember--names have been changed to protect the innocent). I can barely handle one child in public, never mind two--but the woman pays me well, so I happily obliged.
We actually had a really fun time. James sat contentedly in the stroller while Garfield rode around in the sling. We saw dinosaur bones, we went into a giant mouth, and I constantly dispensed toddler snacks. Somehow I managed to keep all of my sha-da-dong in place.
As we left the museum--in plenty of time to eat a healthy lunch before naps--we talked about the animals we saw, we tried to sound like them, and we sang the ABCs. But all of the foo-foo-la-la happiness came to a screeching halt when we got to the car. I couldn't find my keys, my fricking keys...anywhere.
So I called Jared.
Within ten minutes he was in the parking lot with our spare set of keys. And despite the notable inconvenience and the fact that I woke him up from a very well deserved nap, he was smiling. We put the boys in their car seats, and Jared ran into the museum to see if he could recover what had been lost.
Heaven bless this patient man of mine. While he searched we were on our cell phones, and the conversation went almost exactly like this:
J: Ok, so where'd you go first?
A: We did two laps around the mechanical T-Rex.
J: Ok, I did two laps. No keys. Where to next?
A: Take a left and go down that big hall. Then take another left into the bubble exhibit. James loved the bubbles.
J: Ames, I don't see bubbles in there.
A: That's because you have to walk through the maze to get to the bubbles.
J: A maze?! I'm so bad at mazes, Amy.
A: This one's for kids, you can do it!
J: .........Ok, I'm going, I'm walking....damnit, I hit a dead end. Ok, I'm turning....damnit. Ok, I'm just about to the bubbles.....DAMNIT. I hit another dead end.
Anyway, Jared checked the bubbles, he checked the farm, he went into the giant mouth, he sat in the hand chair, he waited in the elevator line, and he walked through the hacienda. No keys.
At that point, both of the boys were sleeping in their car seats, and we decided to take them back to our place since Garfield's house key was missing, too. So Jared followed me home. I pulled into the parking lot first, waited for Jared, and hopped out of the car as he was climbing out of the Blazer.
Just then, our eyes met, and words didn't need to be exchanged. He was exhasperated, and I was ashamed. Sitting right there, on the roof of my car, were my keys. Before Jared could utter a word, I said, "Welp, crisis averted! Check ya later, Jare!" and I jumped into the car and burned rubber out of there.
I swear you guys, I'm such a flaming jack-ass. If my head weren't screwed on so tightly I'd probably never lose it but I'd make Jared go looking for it all the time anyways.
My husband deserves many, many treasures in heaven.
[side note: no, this most definitely is not the first story about keys on the roof of my car to be featured on this blog]