Dodged a bullet with that one

John and I just got back from Thanksgiving Point, where we went with his little playgroup of 6 boys to the children’s garden.

It wasn’t my week for playgroup, but nobody can take 6 active little people to a place like that by themselves, so I pitched in. It was fun. They played in the water, ran into and out of the bear cave screaming, and climbed in the lighthouse. We stayed almost two hours, and when it was time to go home, loaded our little ones back into the cars. Three in my car, and three in my friend’s car.

As we were heading back, my friend changed lanes and rolled down the window. I rolled my window down, too. “Can you call Jeanna and tell her that Trevor’s throwing up in the back of my car?” she yelled. OH GROSS! The only thing worse than your kids throwing up in your car is someone else’s kid throwing up in your car. ICK! So, I called Jeanna, who quickly left the school where she was working with our 5th graders on a program they are getting ready for Friday, and hurried home to meet us. Ugh. I feel so bad for both friends. One who has someone else’s kid’s throw up in her car, and the other who now feels guilty because her kid threw up in her friend’s car.

And I’m oh so relieved. That he wasn’t in my car.