It was one of those days out when everything seemed to be in alignment. The weather was perfect, the water temperature just cool enough to provide from refreshment from the warm sand, and even the crowds seemed less agitated.
The girls, Richard, and I strolled from ride to ride and food stand to food stand as we rejoiced in our family outing to the amusement park. Daisy gorged herself on cotton candy, popcorn, and ice cream, while Faith downed snow cones, scarfed churros, and had more nachos and cheese than an entire baseball stadium. I really thought they would have filled themselves up by the time we left the last park, but by the time we got to the car, they were begging for dinner.
Richard threw on a movie as soon as we got home for the girls while I resigned myself to spending time in the kitchen. It was a treat and I really wasn’t in the mood for a lot of cooking, so it was macaroni and cheese night. Tonight though, I decided to take a trip to flavortown and added hickory smoked bacon, Vermont white cheddar, and a hint of paprika and brown sugar to the casserole.
I whipped together a quick cornbread and threw on some green beans and tropical fruit salad on the plate and voila. I was able to make it to the living room for the last half of the movie. By the way the girls were eating you would have assumed they hadn’t eaten all day.
While I picked out the family’s tv show for the night, the girls took their plates to the kitchen and saw the ice cream in the freezer. Everyone knows that opening the freezer or refrigerator is required every time you go into the kitchen. It didn’t take long for the begging to start. I had my reservations. Call it mother’s intuition, but Richard was an over grown teenager himself and couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make his world-famous triple decker hot fudge and brownie sundae.
We watched a light, family-friendly comedy while everyone enjoyed their dinner. Then it was time to decide who got to clean the dishes and kitchen and who got to make sure the girls got ready for bed on time, and without their electronics.
Richard and I looked at each and smiled.
“Rock,” I said.
“Paper beats rock! Hah!”
“Fine,” Richard said. “Your pick.”
Now, as I stared at the girls who were on their tenth or twelfth sugar rush of the day, my mother’s intuition kicked in again and red flags waved in the wind. They would not be going down for hours at least, and I had a book waiting for me on my kindle.
As much as I hated doing dishes, it was better than the alternative. “You get the girls. All night.”
“Oh pfft. You got the hard job.” Richard laughed as he left the room.
No sooner had I finished drying the last dish, I heard something that will curl any mother’s hair. Daisy said her stomach hurt.
As I sat on the couch and woke my kindle from its slumber, it happened. Richard screaming, girls crying, and the unmistakable sound of a thousand mothers laughing at the husband foolish enough to think taking care of two sugar-filled children was easier than cleaning non-regurgitated food off plates. He’s going to have fun getting that off the walls.