My Wednesday before Thanksgiving included the following:
- Baby with miserable, miserable case of diaper rash who howled every time you changed his diaper;
- Rain, rain everywhere, and my umbrella mysteriously missing from my car (perhaps one of the cats took it?);
- Being forced to skip lunch because of an inane conference call with fifteen people all talking over each other at ever-increasing levels of both volume and indignation;
- Sneaking out of work to rescue my little dumpling from daycare so we could "miss the traffic" and head to my parents' house for dinner;
- Being caught as I snuck out by a senior lawyer (although in an act of kindness, he simply wished me a good holiday weekend and then decided to sneak out early with me);
- Discovering upon arrival at daycare that Mr. Chubkin's diaper rash was much worse (so bad that he would howl if you so much as approached him holding a clean diaper), and that as a result he planned to fuss intermittently all day;
- That we had not, in fact, missed traffic, and that the drive to my parents' house would take upwards of two hours with aforesaid miserable diaper rash baby in the backseat;
- The wailing and the moaning that escalated to nearly inhuman levels after approximately one hour and forty minutes in the car;
And then, when nearly all hope was lost...
- Seeing my grandparents (Gabe's great-grandparents) standing in my mother's kitchen, literally welcoming us with open arms, so thrilled to see me and the baby that they could hardly speak, but instead could only kiss and hug us; and lastly,
- Watching my grandparents take turns reading "Pat the Bunny" as Gabe gazed up at them with his sweet, serious eyes.
In short, Wednesday was a great, great day. Truly, a great day.
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