I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
January 26, 2011
>We took the littles to see Shrek: The Musical last night (which, incidentally, was FABULOUS and I highly, highly recommend it).
Hubs had dropped the kids and me off at the door before the show, but when it was over, I thought it would be easier for us all to walk with him back to the car. It was raining outside, but the rain looked light and both the kids had their raincoats on. No biggie, right?
Wrong.
As soon as we got outside and crossed the street, I realized I had made a mistake- at least as far as I was concerned. The rain was actually pretty heavy and within a minute or two, it had soaked through my coat and turned my carefully styled hair into a bedraggled mess. Of course, Hubs didn’t mind the weather- He strode across Legislative Plaza carrying Punky, who was warm and dry in her waterproof winter coat. Behind him, I struggled to keep up, but it wasn’t easy. The rain made the marble surface as slippery as glass, I was wearing impossibly high platform heels, and Bruiser was doing his darnedest to struggle free from my grip and jump into every puddle he could find.
“Wait!” I cried to my husband, who was getting farther and farther away. “Wait for us!” Several people walking to their cars under cozy umbrellas turned and gave me pitying looks. Bruiser and I got caught at a traffic light (OF COURSE) and I stood miserably on the sidewalk, soaking wet and feeling very sorry for myself. Hubs had finally stopped and was waiting for us on the other side of the street.
When we at last managed to cross the street and continue on toward the car, I saw Punky looking at me contemplatively from over Hubs’s shoulder. I gazed back at her mournfully. Punky has always been my biggest supporter, and I felt sure she’d give Hubs an earful when we all managed to get in the car.
Instead, she said, “Mommy, you really need to stop complaining.”
“What?!” I said incredulously.
“You need to stop acting so upset and think good thoughts instead. Think of how lucky you are right now!”
“How… lucky?” I asked.
“You could be naked right now!” she said. Then she gestured at the street lamps lining the sidewalk. “And there could be no lights!”
“Well…” I said, noting Hubs’s wry smile. “I guess you’re right. I could be naked, with no lights. Really, I am very lucky, aren’t I?”
Punky gave me a satisfied smile and a few moments later, we reached the car. Once we’d gotten the kids inside and climbed into the our own seats, I sighed and shook my head.
“I think I may have taught her too well,” I said. “That sounded way too much like the kind of thing I tell her when she complains.” Hubs laughed. “I can’t believe I just got schooled by my six-year-old!” I said.
“You got schooled,” Hubs said. “You totally did.”
And if I learned my lesson, you might as well, too. The next time you think life just couldn’t get any worse, REMEMBER:
You could be naked. With no lights.
You are so very, very lucky.
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