Recently my car stunk. I mean really stunk. The - when we got in the car for church on Sunday, the kids were hanging their heads out the windows in terror – kind of stunk. Peter was convinced of a lost stinky diaper. “Nooo. I would never do that.” (Hehe, at least I think I would never do that. Uh, oh. Eeek. Panic.)
So I search high and low. Several times! There are, mind you, pieces of lost garbage here and there. But no stinky diaper. Whew! I knew I wasn’t that bad of a mom. (lol)
After nearly a week of sheer DYING in the car, I got mad. Real mad. What is that stink!!
So I search high and low. Several times! There are, mind you, pieces of lost garbage here and there. But no stinky diaper. Whew! I knew I wasn’t that bad of a mom. (lol)
After nearly a week of sheer DYING in the car, I got mad. Real mad. What is that stink!!
(You know my life is rediculous when I KEEP driving like this. "Get in, hurry, we're going to be late!" In and out, all day. Each time I say, "It reeks in here! Crime-in-ee! I gotta fix that!" Drop off, screech home, drag kids in, feed, change, nap..."Get in, hurry, we're going to be late!" Repeat. I think I truly may be a taxi driver. I'm pretty sure I've smelled rotting food in cabs all over NY in my days of yore.)
Let me rewind…A week earlier we had gone go to Salt Lake for some errands. Luckily, the store was right down the street from my favorite, hole-in-the-wall, Chinese restaurant. After stuffing our family selves to the tippiest top, Samuel asked an innocent enough question. “Can I pleeeaaase take the last egg roll home? I’m too full to eat it now, but I can put it in my pocket for later.” (Your pocket!!??)In a shuffle of cleaning up, making sure Simon didn’t have an allergy attack, Ruby being the Tasmanian Devil, and the baby flailing - I said, “sure.” Oh, silly me. I must have momentarily gone insane.
Let me rewind…A week earlier we had gone go to Salt Lake for some errands. Luckily, the store was right down the street from my favorite, hole-in-the-wall, Chinese restaurant. After stuffing our family selves to the tippiest top, Samuel asked an innocent enough question. “Can I pleeeaaase take the last egg roll home? I’m too full to eat it now, but I can put it in my pocket for later.” (Your pocket!!??)In a shuffle of cleaning up, making sure Simon didn’t have an allergy attack, Ruby being the Tasmanian Devil, and the baby flailing - I said, “sure.” Oh, silly me. I must have momentarily gone insane.
In the car…his one bite later, I have totally forgotten about the egg roll. The cabbage, bean sprout, vegetable filled egg roll. Forgotten. Pulled out of his eight year old pocket, bitten, and lost in the depths of our trusty “great white.”
Needless to say, after prying every last piece of paper and garbage out of the car, deep down in the dark cavern of the back seat, I found the culprit. Can you guess what the smell was yet? Yep, the rotting egg roll. P.U...Ew.
1 comment:
hahahahaha! claire just said to me..."whats that? It looks like a disgusting taco!" Too bad she couldnt smell it!
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