Strawberry Scented Anger

I don't know what the kid was thinking. I mean, what went through his head to make him say, "Hey, this could be a good idea..."?

............

This morning we set off on a dinosaur hunting adventure. I whipped together a picnic lunch, we fed the kids a quick breakfast, and our family packed into the mini van. In air-conditioned comfort we cruised down the highway. After a couple of hours we arrived at our destination: the dinosaur museum.

Life doesn't get much more exciting for a three-year-old boy.

The museum was packed with tourists. We raced through the exhibits. My husband and I enjoyed seeing the dinosaurs from a preschooler perspective. By three in the afternoon our crew was wearing out, and it was time to head for home.

We stopped at a MacDonald's in Drumheller for a treat. The boys had been well-behaved at the museum. We bought them milkshakes to enjoy on the drive back to Calgary. My toddler and I shared a vanilla shake, passing it back and forth between us. I handed my preschooler his own strawberry milkshake. He was allowed to drink it in his car seat in the back of the van.

(Parenting Lesson #1: Under no circumstances should you trust an unsupervised three-year-old with an entire strawberry milkshake. This is especially true if said three-year-old has not had his customary afternoon nap.)

We drove for nearly an hour, passing countless farmers' fields and the occasional Hutterite Colony. Our toddler entertained us with silly knock-knock jokes. The baby slept peacefully in her car seat.

Our preschooler was unusually quiet.

(Parenting Lesson #2: Quiet children are either asleep or getting into trouble.)

I loosened my seat belt and turned around, craning my neck to see the back of the van. I caught a whiff of strawberries.

I couldn't believe my eyes.

My son had dumped out the entire contents of his milkshake and was "painting" the back seat with it. Sticky pink droplets covered our vehicle's floor and upholstery. Disgusting goo was smeared across the window. Strawberry milkshake coated my son, his clothes, his suede car seat, and even his special "nank" blankie.

"You need to pull over..." I stammered at my husband.

(Parenting Lesson #3: Never leave home without a good supply of diaper wipes.)

We did the best clean-up job possible under the circumstances. My husband hurled the empty MacDonald's cup into a farmer's field. My sticky son endured the rest of the drive home with a sore bum.

(Parenting Lesson #4: The punishment must fit the crime.)

My young boy is now spending the first night of his life sleeping without his precious "nank". The blankie was a mess. It is sloshing around in my washing machine. I spent an hour crammed into the back seat of our van, scrubbing away crusty globs of milkshake.

Fun way to spend Saturday night.

I could just spit nails.

It will be a loooong time before I buy my son another milkshake.