OK, after much deliberation I have been convinced to tell on myself...
Yes, I did it. I took the wrong kid to soccer practice Monday!
In a rush as usual (and my husband can vouch for that-his comment is that I'll be late for my own funeral), I ran (technically drove) to school and picked the two middle kids up and then onto sitter to get the youngest. Then, back to the house for snacks before soccer practice. I do my normal running around the house--clothes in dryer, check mail, etc. And by this time Daddy is home. So I load up Garrison and truck him off to
Thank goodness, moments later, he returns my call only to deliver the bad news--Garrison's practice is Tuesday night! Yikes. Wrong kid.
OK, back enroute to our house, I make another desperate phone call only this time it was to our house to inform our other child, Issabella, that she needed to be ready to go when I pulled into the driveway. Guess what I got? Voice mail...(it was a beautiful afternoon so the remainder of our family was outside and out of range of the ringing phone)
The look on my husband's face when I pulled up and explained myself was priceless (as any husband or father would agree). So Issabella flees to find her shin guards. Then back in to snag her water bottle. On the road again around to
Wrong again. As luck would have it her practice started half an hour later than Garrison, so I had a slight window to be on time. Back on the one-way street and around again to
Maybe my luck was changing. The voice on the other end told directed me to a field near the Church of the Nazarene.
Bingo, her coach and team. We pull up to the field. Just as she starts to exit the car, she exclaims, "Mommy, I need to pee."
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