This, right here, is good times.
Especially in 90-degree heat.
Gum. On my seat belt buckle and clasp.
My 3-year old daughter, thanks to me, has discovered gum, and all the wonderful properties of it. Like how gum sticks to most surfaces. And how fun it is to shove gum down into the seat belt clasp. And how Mom won't discover it until she sits in the passenger seat of the minivan, and tries to buckle up. And how, once Mom manages to get the belt to "click", the gum gets shoved further down the clasp. And how Mommy looks so funny trying to undo the seat belt, but the gum is making that nearly impossible to do so, because it sticks.
Funny mommy! Look at her yelling. Her face is all red.
In essence, this is all my fault. Shame on me.
I am a dumbass.
But don't judge me. You are more than welcome to recommend another way to entertain a 3-year old girl stuck in a minivan with me day after day, while we drive her brothers to school or practices, and as we run errands. She is quite the trouper, but she has her limits. There are only so many DVDs that she wants to watch, or books she wants to read. The Magna-Doodle has lost its luster. Gum is exciting. Gum keeps her occupied as she fervently tries to blow a bubble, but her little lips fail. Apparently, however, gum keeps her occupied in more ways than one.
As you can see.
When I discovered the gum in the seat belt clasp Sunday morning as we were leaving for church, I yelled, "WHO. DID. THIS?"
My daughter slapped her hands over her eyes, and said, "I didn't do ANY-FING, Mommy!"
I wagged my finger in her face and said, "You are DONE with gum. DONE. NO MORE!"
I soon realized that was stupid, and I would be making a liar of myself if I let that threat stand. Gum is my friend. It gets me through an afternoon at the mall with her. Gum relieves her boredom, if only for a few moments. As a 3-year old, I know the day will come when she no longer finds little things like gum fascinating. All too soon I will hear from her, "Meh. Gum? That's lame."
I continued by saying, "Well...um...you are DONE with gum for now. Until I say! Yeah. That's right! Until I decide!"
Because I'm fierce like that.
If my minivan could talk, it would have many stories to tell, including this one. But mostly, I think if it could talk, it would start out by saying, "Bitch, please. Can you just try and keep me clean? It's bad enough that I smell like flatulence and sweaty sports equipment, and I have crushed cracker crumbs and granola bars wedged between my seats, but now this? Gum?"
I guess you could say that my minivan is my boo.
Another day, another mess to clean. Although, I say with a great sense of perspective that it's really not that bad.
Gum? I can deal.