I’ve never been an umbrella person. I invariably leave them somewhere or almost poke someone’s eyes out with the spokey things. I’d rather get wet, frankly. But it’s one thing to be an idiot about wet weather, and quite another to keep involving your kid in your idiocies.
Regular readers may recall the day Mr Chick and I got caught, with Charlie and the pram, in a thunderstorm. The other week we also just managed to make it home before the almighty hail storm smashed most of Sydney. (Our room sprung a leak directly over Charlie’s cot though – the poor kid can’t escape water-related mishaps.)
Then, just this Monday gone, it looked like rain. I wasn’t going anywhere. I’d learned my lesson twice before about taking the pram out when it looked like rain. To make extra sure I couldn’t go anywhere, I chucked the pram bonnet in the wash.
Then Charlie and I pretty much went stir crazy, I decided the weather was holding and there would be no harm in a quick trip up to the park. Until the quick trip to the park turned into a quick trip to the post office and a quick trip to Camperdown to have a coffee with Eleni and her bubba Sam at Gather on the Green. As soon as we got there, the skies cracked open. Crappity-crap, I was thinking. (Actually, I was thinking something slightly less PG-rated, but my mum has told me to please stop swearing on the blog).
I was a little concerned. We were 20 minutes from home and it was pissing down. I didn’t give two hoots about getting wet myself, but I didn’t want to walk Charlie home without a pram bonnet or anything really to protect him. Then, I remember the cafe had a pile of plastic-backed picnic rugs, and yes, they’d lend me one.
“Sorry buddy, it’s not for long,” I apologised to Charlie, chucking the rug, plastic side up, over the pram and his head. He squawked a bit in protest – I would too, if someone turned my pram into a bat cave – but there was no other solution. (I fully expect him to complain about me to the other babies at mother’s group.)
Fashioning a funnel over the handlebars for airflow and hurrying home as quick as I could before a passing car called child services, I couldn’t help but smile as I listened to the bubba happily babbling away in the dark under the picnic rug. Every time I lifted the rug to check on him he was just chilling out and smiling at me. Not sure if it was because he was warm and dry, because he was pretending he was Batman or because mama never fails to amuse when her hair is plastered to her head.
Rain:3 Mama: 0
Do you seem to have the same types of misadventures with your kid(s)? Tell me I’m not the only one.