On Friday I graded the last of my students' finals and finished all of my paperwork. After a three-hour nap and a trip to the gym, I was ready to join the family in Dallas for a couple days. We had great plans for Saturday -- lots of free time and relaxing with family, maybe Harry Potter with the little brother, and a sisters' outing at night.
Life with little kids doesn't afford much free time, though. Will had a piano recital at 1:30, and Nathan had a basketball game at 4. The sisters and I planned a night at Billy Bob's, which meant that I'd have to take Nathan to the 10:30 showing of Harry Potter. Relaxation Plan foiled.
When Nathan and I pulled into the movie theater at 10:15 on Saturday morning, the building was suspiciously empty. "Our first movie isn't till 11," the employees grumbled at us when we tried buying tickets. No problem, I reassured the bro. We'll just go get snacks at Target before the movie. But the Target had gone out of business, so we went to a gas station instead. We returned to the movies half an hour later, purchased tickets, and found our theater. Then we looked at the time on the tickets. 12:30. I had to tell a very disappointed little brother that his movie would have to wait. Harry Potter Plan foiled.
Next event: Will's piano recital. I went for a run before lunch and ended up being about 15 minutes late to the recital. No worries, I thought. These things take forever anyway. Unfortunately, Will had been the first kid to perform. Recital Plan foiled.
After the recital, Sister #3 and I joined #2 at Nathan's basketball game. We got there almost on time and waited for a while for the other team to show up. They didn't. Forfeit. Instead we watched a scrimmage. Basketball Plan foiled.
#3 and I did a bit of shopping and then drove home to put on boots for Billy Bob's with #2. We drove an hour to Ft. Worth, paid the parking attendant, and faced a line wrapping halfway around the seven-acre honky tonk. After waiting half an hour or so, #3 had the genius idea of checking to see if getting in was even an option. It wasn't. Tickets were sold out, for both the concert and for general admission. Billy Bob's Plan foiled.
Still hoping for a fun night out, the girls and I decided to drive to Dallas and hit up the Idle Rich Pub. We found a great parking spot and marched up to the uptown pub in our honky tonk duds, eager to grab a booth and talk for a few hours. But #3 isn't 21 yet, and they wouldn't let her in. Outing Plan foiled.
I drove back to Denton and went to bed. Ending the day seemed like a good idea.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
When we get lost
Every time I drive my siblings around, they beg me to get lost. And given my nonexistent skills with a map, this is a pretty fortunate arrangement.
It all started last week when I dropped my mom off at the airport on Saturday morning. The two little girls were in the back, snug in their car seats, rather grumpy from waking up too early. Getting back to my parents' house from DFW is very easy. If you take the north exit, that is. The south exit will shoot you into a spinning maze of turnpikes and toll roads and overpasses. I took the south exit.
We drove around in circles for a while, the girls growing more and more restless. Even three- and five-year-olds can tell when they're being driven in circles. I stopped at an empty parking lot to let them run around while I looked at a map, but they were too cold. So we buckled in and hit the road again.
Then I had my brilliant idea. Getting lost with Courtney = Donuts! That way, instead of associating getting lost with frustrating car rides around Dallas, they'll think of donuts. Brilliant, I know.
Fortunately, donut shops are easy to find. We stopped at one, ate and relaxed, and then I called a friend who always gives understandable directions. "What happens when you get lost with me?" I asked the kids when we pulled into the parents' driveway 45 minutes later. "We get donuts!" the five-year-old shouted.
Since then, whenever I make a wrong turn, I hear a chorus of little voices asking, "Are we lost? Do we get donuts?"
It all started last week when I dropped my mom off at the airport on Saturday morning. The two little girls were in the back, snug in their car seats, rather grumpy from waking up too early. Getting back to my parents' house from DFW is very easy. If you take the north exit, that is. The south exit will shoot you into a spinning maze of turnpikes and toll roads and overpasses. I took the south exit.
We drove around in circles for a while, the girls growing more and more restless. Even three- and five-year-olds can tell when they're being driven in circles. I stopped at an empty parking lot to let them run around while I looked at a map, but they were too cold. So we buckled in and hit the road again.
Then I had my brilliant idea. Getting lost with Courtney = Donuts! That way, instead of associating getting lost with frustrating car rides around Dallas, they'll think of donuts. Brilliant, I know.
Fortunately, donut shops are easy to find. We stopped at one, ate and relaxed, and then I called a friend who always gives understandable directions. "What happens when you get lost with me?" I asked the kids when we pulled into the parents' driveway 45 minutes later. "We get donuts!" the five-year-old shouted.
Since then, whenever I make a wrong turn, I hear a chorus of little voices asking, "Are we lost? Do we get donuts?"
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