As if ballet camp wasn’t enough, Ellen is having a ball this week at gymnastics camp. She grins the entire hour. Seriously. Watch.
Olympics 2024? We’re all over it.
She mastered the hula hoop quickly.
At the end of every class, Ellen gets a popsicle. Because I’m brave/stupid, I let her eat it in the car on the way home.
It’s a bit of a drive back to our house along a two-lane country road. Ellen sometimes struggles with car sickness, so I made sure to put her closer to the front of the van for this ride.
Now here’s where I am gonna have a moment of honesty with you: I was having a tough day for reasons not at all pertinent to this story. And I was thinking and praying through it while I was driving. I might have even been crying a bit.
The children were listening to music and utterly oblivious. Until Ellen piped up: “Mommy! I need you to pull over RIGHT NOW.”
Uh, uh, uh… Hang on, honey!
I went a few yards before finding a ditch to pull the van into. There was a lot of squealing and stuttering and such while I safely got us off the road. I urged Ellen, “Open the door! Open the door! Hurry, go throw up OUT of the van!”
She sat still.
Meanwhile, I’m wiping my face and trying to unbuckle my seatbelt so I can hold her hair back or whatever it is you do when someone needs to puke from a van at an awkward angle.
She said quietly, “Mommy. My popsicle is dripping.”
“Ellen? Is that why I pulled the van into a ditch?”
I floundered around for a minute until I located a diaper. “Here, drip into this.”
I pulled the van back onto the road and stifled a hysterical giggle while I wiped my last tears. I can’t even have a proper Come-Apart with this gang!
And, honestly, it was probably God’s merciful way of helping me pull it together. On the way home, we talked about “proportionate response” and what events require Immediate Evacuation. Drippy popsicles were not on the list.
So- Lesson learned:
Pity parties are not allowed with this crowd. There simply isn’t time between crises.
And I’m probably gonna need to outlaw traveling popsicles, too.