I will also eat a lot of ramen without having to share it with anyone. Yes, I'm looking at you, Eve. Noodle-thievin' punk. (It's a well-known fact that ramen keeps you young.)
Last Monday, after Natalie left for kindergarten, I dropped Eve off at Vacation Bible School. She happily skipped inside and I made plans to think about meaningful things on my way home. I was unable to do anything deep thinking because Daniel was in the back complaining that he wanted to go to VBS with Eve. It's hard to think when you are busy trying to reason with a crazy person.
I tried to think on my way to pick Eve up from VBS but got interrupted when Daniel asked me how many seconds it would be until he started kindergarten and wouldn't accept I dunno for an answer. Well you start in a little over a month. "How much is a month?" About thirty days. "How much is a day?" Twenty-four hours. "How much is an hour?" Sixty minutes. "How much is a minute?" Sixty seconds. "So how come you don't know how many seconds until I will be in kindergarten?" Ask your father when he gets home.
One of these days, Dan is going to pull out this list of unanswered questions and spring them all at once on Daddy. From how many seconds until kindergarten starts? to why doesn't God stop bad things from happening? to what are boogers made of?
I tried to think on the way to carpool, but got distracted by the melee in the backseat as Dan and Eve fought over who was going to say the even numbers in "I one a skunk."
A: I one a skunk.
B: I two a skunk.
A: I three a skunk.
B: I four a skunk.
A: I five a skunk.
B: I six a skunk.
A: I seven a skunk.
B: I eight a skunk.
A: You ate a skunk?!?
I had a really deep thought, too, but it flew out the window along with a few choice words for these strangelings in the back who bear my resemblance, but without the worry lines and the stress acne.
Who knows...maybe I was thinking about Pro-Activ?
I thought about giving up on thinking once we picked up our live-cargo at the elementary school. It was hard to ponder anything over the cries of "A policeman is right behind you with his lights on! You're going to get a ticket!"
First of all, that make-believe police officer totally could have been a police woman. Second of all, the only thing behind me was a wood-paneled station wagon that may or may not have been driven by Clark Griswold. Third of all, I don't get tickets. I'm Christy Griffith and I obey all posted speed limits, which some of my friends refer to as driving s-l-o-w.
Precious cargo and all that jazz. Myself included in the precious cargo, btw. As much as I don't want small children to perish in an automobile accident, I've got just a big enough ego to want to stay here on this earth with them. I've never understood the logic that people would only drive safer when they have kids in the car, as if driving solo gives them the right to drive like a butthead and put other people's kids in jeopardy.
Anyway, I had another shot at some Nobel Prize-winning thinking once I got the kids back in the van to take Nat to ballet but was once again thought-blocked by the kids arguing over who had gotten buckled first, all the way to the dance studio. And if you didn't buckle first, you reserve the right in our family to scream out "It's not a race!" with red eyes and wet cheeks.
While Natalie was dancing, I headed for the drive-thru for a quick dinner for her before evening VBS. Had I been able to think at all earlier in the day, I may have planned for a healthier meal, but apparently I got side-tracked with something I can't remember. Even a trip to and from Sonic left little time for reckoning as Eve sang I want tater tots! on the way there and Give me my tater tots! on the way back.
On the way from dance to VBS, I finally had my moment. I had a crystal-clear four seconds where I was able to form a thought and even go back and revise it upon subsequent thinkings. (It had to do with how many different ways to turn leftover nacho ingredients into suppers that aren't nachos. If Taco Bell can do it, I can totally do it.) But my moment was short-lived as I grew suspicious of the quiet in the van. It wasn't until I was hit in the back of the head with some hot-tot action that I realized there's a price to pay for silence, and it comes in the form of crumbled, greasy potatoes that are now not only in my hair but all over the floor of the van.
If I had a dime for every time Eve has put some crap-food in my hair, I would be rich enough to not buy crap-food but instead give her caviar for which she could chuck at my head.
Now the way back from VBS drop-off may have been a good time to finish my nacholy thoughts had Eve not still been armed with tater tots.
Home. Dinner. Bed for tater chucker. The ride back to VBS is the first one of the day without anyone else in the van but me. I finally think about the important things in life.
I could totally leave twenty minutes earlier tomorrow night and swing by Taco Bell on my way to pick up the kids. How can I be thinking about Taco Bell? I just had beans and tortillas and white melty cheesy goodness for dinner. Crap, I forgot to move those clothes to the dryer that got salsa spilled on them. It's okay, I can do it when I get home. I'm tired of thinking.
I didn't mind at all when I picked up a van-full of boisterous children who wanted nothing more than to sing the first track from the VBS cd over and over again. Thinking is overrated. I'm just going to turn on, tune in, and not speed.