I hauled Middle and Baby with me, in search of a laundromat that was supposedly "right down the road."
And hey, it was!
Except their machines weren't working.
Ok, I could do this. I could find another laundromat. Between my iPhone and the GPS in the car, how hard could it be, right?
Except I am NOTORIOUSLY bad with directions. I don't know my north from my south, my east from my west, or my ass from my elbow when it comes to navigating my way ANYWHERE. True story.
But I soldiered on.
And promptly got myself lost. Instead of merely staying on the same road and driving to the next down, I ended up on the Interstate. Heading out of Connecticut and into New York. New York City.
And remember? I had 2 little boys in the back of the car.
"Where are we now?" "Are we there yet?" "Why are we going this way?" "Are you sure, Momma?"
I tried to stay calm. For them. Apparently I didn't do a good enough job.
They both started to cry. Like, hysterically.
"I want my Daddy!" "We're lost!" "What are we gonna doooooooo?"
So I got off the next exit. Pulled over in a parking lot. Tried to calmly call Hubby who was still back at the hotel (SLEEPING, mind you) to
Eventually, I figured it out. Made my way back to the hotel. With two NOT HAPPY little boys. And still dirty baseball uniforms.
But time marches on, right? That morning was just a mere hiccup (to me).
Not, apparently, to Baby.
You guys, he is still SCARRED.
And it's all my fault.
Later this summer, after my mom had gone back to NY, I suggested to our babysitter that she take the boys bowling. Great idea, right?
She assured me she knew how to get to the bowling alley.
And guess who freaked out in the backseat of her car?
BOTH Middle and Baby.
So she just turned around and came home.
AND THEN, just a few weeks ago, as all the football teams were being bussed to their official weigh-in, apparently there was a mix-up, and the teams weren't sure where to go.
Guess who FUH-REAKED OUT on the bus?
That would be my child. Baby.
(Thankfully Hubby was right there with him.)
My poor little buddy is now obsessed about Being Lost/Getting Lost and talks about it all.the.time.
"For my football game this Sunday, do you know how to get there?" "What if we get lost?" "What if your phone didn't work - what would we do?" "Do other people know how to get there too?" "How do all these cars on the road just know where to go?"
It's a constant barrage of these types of questions. I'm not even kidding.
I'm sensing future therapy. Lots.
My child's worst nightmare. Thanks to me.
What is your child's irrational fear? (And more importantly, did YOU cause it?)