Memories?

On a certain day in my life about 5 1/2 years ago, I picked Will up from preschool and decided to drive the 20 minutes to our closest McDonald’s, let the kiddos get a Happy Meal as a special treat and then head on home where they would (hopefully!) all take naps.

Now it’s even difficult for me to believe that my kids ever took naps. That is virtually a nonexistent activity around this household now.

Anyway, we took off and the kids were all super-excited about the “awesome” Happy Meal toys that would soon be theirs. We went through the McDonald’s drive-through and turned around to head back on home to eat our meals.

Wouldn’t you know it, about three miles from our house I heard a terrible thunking noise that signaled a certain disaster-waiting-to-happen and the van started telling me that I needed to pull over….NOW.

Here are some things you need to know about me at that point in my life to fully appreciate this story: I was approximately 16 months pregnant with Weston (or, at least I felt like I was); Wyatt was 2; Weslea was 3; Will was 5; I didn’t own a cell phone yet.

So, here I am stuck on a lonely, country road with three kids, hugely pregnant, no cell phone and a flat tire.

Not one of the happiest memories of my life.

I had two options at this point. I could…

1) Take out the stroller, put Wyatt in it and wobble the three miles home with two kids walking behind me the entire way. Right…

OR

2) Take all the kids with me up to the slightly spooky blue house at the top of the hill maybe a quarter mile away.

Since my huge, pregnant belly was telling me “there is absolutely no way that you are going to walk anywhere with me around here missy!” I decided to take my chances with the strange house. Thankfully, there were two teenagers at home so I began making my rounds of calls. Sweatiepy at work? No answer. My sister’s home? No answer. My brother-in-law’s cell phone? No answer. My mom and dad? No answer. Sweatiepy at work again? No answer.

Holy moly…could this day possibly get any worse?

I finally got a hold of my father-in-law who kindly drove out to pick us up and I drug three exhausted kids and one crabby mommy home where I immediately called Sweatiepy at work and left a message that basically said that “he better start answering his phone at work from now on or else!!”

Since that long ago day, I have heard the words “Mommy! This is where our van got a flat tire!” at least 6 billion times. Every single time we pass that house.

From Will…which I can understand because he was five and could definitely remember that day.

From Weslea…who was three, so I’m not really believing that she can remember that day.

From Wyatt…who was two…yeah right. There is no way that he can remember that day.

And….from Weston. Yes. The same Weston who wasn’t even born yet when “The Great Flat Tire Event” happened. But he fully insists that he can remember that day. And I learned long ago not to argue with him about it.

So, today off we went to McDonald’s to get a Happy Meal…just Weston and me…as a special treat for my little guy who is the only one still at home during the day. And, what did I hear when we passed that spot on the road?

“Mommy? Remember when we got a flat tire here because there was a big nail in the road? And we went to that blue house? My so glad that Grandpa Jim picked us up!”

Me too, baby. Me too.