Today was almost entirely good. The boy stayed home with me, but we filled our time quite nicely. We ran out to my folks house to take care of the dog and then we headed back to Longview to go on a ‘date.’ We went to the Lunar Golf place in the mall where Harrison did reasonably well—he shot most holes in 4-5 shots, which is pretty good for a kid who never goofy golfs. We only played 10 holes, but, again, for a kid who never does this and is only five years old, 10 holes of putt putt is not bad. This place is indoors (air conditioning!) and has black lights and fluorescent paint everywhere, which makes it pretty darned cool in any book, I think.
After the golfing, we headed off to Chick-Fil-A for some lunch. Am I the only one who remembers when you only ever found Chick-Fil-A at the mall? We have two freestanding restaurants in Longview and I still feel kind of off when I eat there.
Best part of the whole ‘date’? The fact that it cost, all told, under $5. I had free passes for the Lunar Golf from a teacher bash the student council/leadership kids have for teachers at the end of the school year, so that was free. I bought glow in the dark necklaces for me and the boy, two for $1. The Chick-Fil-A was mostly free—I had a free kid’s meal coupon and a free adult size chicken sandwich coupon, both received at the Alleyfest earlier this summer. I felt guilty about not paying for anything (although they probably would have let me), so I bought some fries and a small soda to go with my sandwich. (That, and I was still hungry!) Total cost, about $3.
On the downside of everything, we had to cut our meal short because I had to rush to the mall office to reclaim my checkbook. With our bank cards. And my insurance card. And the HSA card. All of which, miraculously, were still in it. How could I be so stupid that I would leave such an important thing laying around?
Well, the thing is, I don’t like carrying a purse, especially during summer. I usually have keys, phone and a little cash in my pockets and I figure if I need anything else, I’ll worry about it when the time comes. Most of the time this works out fine for me. I’d just rather not be lugging a bag around with me in the heat—it’s depressing.
Today, however, knowing I was going to the mall, I knew I might need a little bit of money beyond the $10 I had brought, so I brought the checkbook. Without a purse to carry it in, I simply placed it in my back pocket, which is not a terrible thing—I’ve done this before with nary a problem. The problem came when I had to go to the restroom.
I’ve gotten in the habit of going to the family restrooms whenever I can, just because I don’t like the idea of sending my kid into the men’s room without supervision. (Yes, I’m sure this will cause need for therapy later on. Whatever.) So anyhoo, we go in, I tell Harrison to wait in the little anteroom they have in this particular facility; he’s to sit on the provided bench and not touch anything. Simple enough.
Except that he’s five. And he has a glow-in-the-dark necklace. And he’s five. I do my business in the restroom, where I had to remove the checkbook from my back pocket because it was falling out and wash up. As I’m opening the door to leave the room and look back, I think, “I need to grab my checkbook!” And then I hear Harrison scream.
I look to see what the problem is. At this point, he’s not screaming any more, but I’m pretty rattled nonetheless. He complains that I ran over his toe with the door while he was trying to hang his necklace on the door. He’s hopping around a bit. I look at his foot, preparing to give him the obligatory kiss-and-make-it-better when I see a tiny bit of red on the toe of his sock. Holy crap.
Peeling off the sock, I see that I have crushed the end of his toe. It sends shivers up my spine (even now!) and I start to think what to do (first aid training fresh in my head and all). I gather up his socks and shoes and we head out of the bathroom in search of Band-Aids. (Yes, I’m aware of the irony that I usually carry the darned things in my purse during the school year…) None in the vending machines in the women’s (regular) restroom. Don’t see any on the men’s room wall from where I’m standing. The mall office is around the corner, so I walk and he hobbles and we get there in short time. The lady in the office says she doesn’t have a first aid kit, but she does have a few Band-Aids. Fair enough. We grab one, I put it on, kiss the toe and all is right with the world. We head off to Chick-Fil-A in a cloud of oblivion and tuck in to our fowl lunch. Only twenty minutes later when Robert calls and asks why the bank had called him about the checkbook do I even have a clue what a major calamity I had on my hands.
So all is well. The checkbook has been reclaimed, the boy and I had a nice outing and the day has wound down nicely. He ran a lowish-grade fever this evening, but I’m taking him to the doctor for his five year visit tomorrow anyway, so I guess we’ll address that at that time if need be.
And them’s the facts of life. :)
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