So my nana turned 80 last week. We had a party.
The adventure was not at the party, but on the way to the party.
Let me start at the beginning, because that is clearly where every great adventure starts.
Last week we received coupons for McCafe...two lattes for the price of one was a deal we could not pass up, so we tried to exercise some self control, and ordered only a large. Their large is exactly that...LARGE, I thought it was delicious, but for someone who doesn't drink a lot of caffeine beverages, that was a lot of coffee!
Approximately half way through the beverage I am having problems controlling my incessant jabbering...which was also when I reached the 'U' in the alphabet game. During this time I found it necessary to say "YOU!!!!" or "you..." or "YYYYYOOOOOOUUUUUU" over and over and over again. Yes, I distracted the driver.
Let me explain my husband's car rule. "If you are in the passenger seat, you are the navigator. Therefore it is your fault if any wrong turns, or missed turns happen while you are on duty."
We went to the airport. No, we were not taking any flights to get to our destination, but somehow my fascination with the many different ways, and tones that I could say "You", left us headed to Terminal #1.
After finding our way back to the highway, and after I found the letter "U', and was able to move onto "V" (which I might add is half and as fun to say, and two times more annoying), we ventured off the highway to find a McDonalds, again. And no, I did not get an other latte, I was beginning to feel like my heart was going to pound right through my chest and land in someone's happy meal.
I failed... I was hoping my job as navigator would be revoked, but more and more responsibility kept getting tossed my way, like "We just passed AN OTHER exit for a McDonalds." and "How do I turn around and go the opposite direction on the highway when there is no overpass??" Geez.
Well, I finally concurred the challenge to navigate us to a happy meal, big mac wielding restaurant.
We were able to sit and eat our nuggets in peace, and tried to make a quick exit since all of our detours were beginning to make us a wee bit late.
My daughter, the two year-old, loves to clean up after herself, and this is an obsession I encourage because, well, I'd rather not clean up after her! So she took her little drink, finished it off, and proceeded to the garbage can and as my husband shuffled her along she started wailing, "My ring, my ring!!!"
A quick scan of the floor led my deductive reasoning to the garbage can.
Yet an other side note. My husband learned the word "Valour" this weekend. The dictionary describes valour as; Courage in the face of danger. My husband later described my actions that followed as such...
I run to the garbage can, my son follows behind (I think he was eager to be the hero in this story). We open it up and look down....full garbage can...gross.
On lookers were looking on, we unlatched the receptacle and removed the bin, in went the hands and head, and after several minutes of searching, I found the ring!! (and my son ripped it out of my hands and said "Look what I got") I went to the washroom and scrubbed my hands and face.
Sometimes we have wade through a lot of garbage for the people we love. And I would willingly do it again and again.