Today I went to Costco after my lymph appointment, then had to pick up Brandon at his school at 4:15, get home and unload the car and then drive to 7-11 to meet a photographer with Natalie at 4:30 for her senior photo session. I called ahead and asked the kids at home to be ready to help. I didn't arrive until 4:25, but Dan and Nat came rushing out, as instructed. We made a great team, until the last load, which included a giant bottle of orange sauce, which I dropped onto the floor instead of the counter. It was not a shatter-proof bottle. It was 4:30.
I snatched up the bottle and got it into the sink, about half full. Then I decided to do the same thing with the kitchen rug, since it contained about half the orange goo. But in the process, I sent a huge streak of the goo up the cabinets and across the counter. It was 4:32.
At this point I'm just trying not to swear. Orange goo is everywhere, (did I mention that I spent the entire morning cleaning just yesterday?), I'm supposed to be gone, I haven't even had a chance to go to the bathroom, and I'm wearing a blasted glove that doesn't allow me to just grab a rag and clean up the blasted mess.
The three kids are all frozen, waiting for me to explode I think. Nat, of course, doesn't want to come anywhere near my mess, since she's just dolled herself up and is supposed to meet with the photographer ten minutes ago. So she calls out, "Somebody help her!"
Then my little, loveable Brandon steps over the mess, his arms outstretched, and gives me a hug.
And who could ask for more help than that?