I love Easter. I love the flowers, the candy, the pastel colors, and the Resurrection celebration. And this year, I decided to do something special. But of course, with my horrible luck, it didn’t go as planned. I should have known.
This year, I just couldn’t stand it any longer…I wanted to be with my grandchildren for Easter. After years of purchasing Easter dresses for my granddaughter and never getting to see her wear them, I decided that this year I would travel to Charleston to be with my son, daughter-in-law, and their three children for Easter.
I was so excited; I purchased a new dress, shoes, and a sparkly necklace since I would be going to their large church. On Easter morning, I donned my finery then drove to see the grandkids. I accidentally hit a small curb at McDonald’s on the way but didn’t think anything of it. A little further down the road, a bright red cardinal decided to commit suicide and flew right into the side of my car.
I arrived at my son’s mayhem of a house, helped get the children ready, broke two fingernails, then out the door we flew…actually on time for once. But suddenly, there was a commotion. My daughter-in-law was unaware that the 2-year-old had grabbed the fob to the van. And after he was put in his car seat, and his 1-month-old brother was put in his seat, the 2-year-old decided to play with the fob. He ended up locking the car, with it running, and both kids inside.
So we went with Plan B. I took the 7-year-old granddaughter and her mother to the church, while my son waited for a locksmith. All the way to church, my granddaughter regaled me with the dead, decapitated squirrel her daddy found and buried. She went into glorious detail about the gore.
As soon as we drove up to the church, I stepped out, and my brand-new shoe strap popped. I had an ankle strap attached to.…nothing. I hobbled into the church and flopped. I began digging into my purse searching for anything to fix my shoe. And when I reached into a pocket, a business card slid under my fingernail and cut it. I started to bleed profusely. That lasted through the sermon. When the service was over, my son picked up the 2-year-old, felt around, and pulled the price tag off the little shorts the boy had been wearing all morning.
When church was over, I told my son that I was driving down the road to Walgreens where I was planning to buy super glue for my shoe. I sent them on to the restaurant.
I got the glue, glued my strap back to the shoe, glued my fingers together, and spilled some on my new dress. I managed to free my fingers and was pulling out of the parking lot when a lady drove up next to me and got my attention. Rolling down the window, she informed me that my front tire was flat. The McDonald’s curb had killed my tire.
Sighing, I got back out and fished around for the tire fixer thingy that I plugged into my cigarette lighter and screwed onto the tire. About 10 minutes later, tire inflated, I drove to the restaurant where the usual menu prices had been inflated as well for Easter. Over $171 later, we left the restaurant, and I watched in horror as my granddaughter fell down a flight of stairs. She was okay, just a little skinned up. And of course, I had to re-inflate my tire.
I spent a little more time with the family, and then decided I had better start for home…I had to stop every 30 minutes to inflate my tire.
When I arrived home, I stared in the mirror. My once nice hair-do was scraggily, my Easter dress was spotted with unknown toddler gunk, except for the spot of super glue, my white shoes were a dirty mess from inflating the tire, and my sparkly necklace was broken with one strand hanging loose down my neck.
Thank goodness I have a year to recover before next Easter.
