Monday, March 5, 2012

Water Wars

This morning, Hubby had a meeting with the local high school principal about the baccalaureate service.  One of three youth pastors in our town, Hubby was volunteered to be the pastor in charge this year, mostly because the other two guys didn't want to.  Or something like that.

That left me in charge of getting Large Fry off to school.  Hubby usually walks her across the street in the mornings, unless he has other obligations (like today) or he's sick.  I get up to help make lunches most mornings, and to stick the diabetic cat, who needs insulin twice a day.  Three days a week, the twins leave with Hubby and he drops them off at preschool before driving the extra 60 seconds over to his office.

Today was his day off (despite the meeting this morning), and he got back just as I was herding Large Fry out the door for the walk to school.  He went in to herd the twins and talk to them about going out for breakfast.

By the time I got back, the cold was seeping into my ankle, which is still sensitive to weather changes (and probably always will be).  I was also pooped, since I'd gone grocery shopping late last night and didn't get home until about 12:30.

Medium Fry wanted a jammie day and didn't want to go out to breakfast (unusual).  Small Fry didn't want to go out to breakfast unless I was going, too.  So Small readily agreed to go when I said I would come, but Medium wasn't quite in the mood for food yet.  Hubby told her to go get dressed anyway.

Medium came back downstairs a few minutes later, complaining about her lack of pants.  I went down to the laundry room and got her a clean pair of jeans from the dryer, and she happily skipped upstairs to put them on.

I plunked the spray water bottle and the detangling spray on the butcher block island.  "Can you take care of hair?" I asked.  I still needed to put my contact lenses in and I was feeling pretty sluggish still.

"Sure," Hubby said.  He picked up the squirt bottle.

And playfully aimed it at Small's head, pulling the trigger.

A fine mist of water hit her in the side of the head, mostly on her hair.

She shrieked.

Hubby squirted Medium, who also squealed.

"You got me wet, Daddy!" Small giggled and skittered away.

"I'm gonna get you again!"  Hubby grinned and aimed.

Squealing, Small and Medium both took off for the den, Hubby chasing them and misting their hair with water.

Thinking this might get out of control fast, I moseyed down the hall after them.  "Don't squirt me!" the Fries chorused, giggling.  Hubby countered with, "Spray, spray, spray!"

Leaning against the doorframe, I said, "Daddy, what's our rule about chasing?"

Hubby stopped in his tracks and looked sheepish.  Oops was all over his face.  "You're right."

I smiled and stepped back, intending to go upstairs and put in my contacts.

"I sorry," Hubby said as he came over to me.  "I thought I was being a good daddy."

"You were, honey," I said, feeling bad that I had stopped the fun.  "You were."

No comments:

Post a Comment

If you are rude, spiteful, or just plain mean, there will be a $10 charge just for putting up with you.

Please be nice.