This afternoon Tatum and I went to the mall. While there, she managed to dump nearly her entire sippy cup of goat milk on herself in her stroller (while I was checking out at Dillards).
Oh, and let me mention she is teething like mad and her nose is a faucet. So I use the precious last kleenexes to try and sop up the goat milk and make a dignified exit.
We head to the play area and I let her run around and dry off a bit, but when it's time to go I can't put her in the sopping wet stroller, and she won't follow me wearing her little giraffe backpack/leash.
So I'm carrying her, wearing 4 inch heels, through the mall to a bathroom where I can get my stinky little girl cleaned up. With much difficulty, wriggling (she wants to push the stroller...as I'm carrying her...in the china department), and squawks of disapproval from her (and me) we make it to the car.
Figuring I deserved a little treat for that wrestling match, I decide to treat myself to a dip cone at a drive through. Perhaps I should have had a premonition when the man handed me a wad of napkins...
I pull away, the chocolate still wet on the ice cream when I feel a drip running down my hand.
I quickly lick it away.
I look and now there are four steady streams of ice cream running from beneath the chocolate ensconced cone.
Down my hand. Down my arm. Into my lap.
I place the wad of napkins in my lap and hold my hand over it as the pool collects.
I'm beginning to eat the ice cream quickly now, biting into it and slurping up the ice cream as fast as I can. I have to switch hands and now my right hand becomes covered in the rivers of sticky mess and the steering wheel is sticky to boot.
Furiously I begin eating with abandon. I'm two years old and trying to give myself an ice cream headache.
Then a whole half of the chocolate shell drops into my lap. I flip it over and use it as a cup for the dripping ice cream, only now that ice cream is pouring out the open side.
Then I see I need to merge lanes. And I'm surrounded by big rigs. Whilst bathing in ice cream.
I try to pull into a neighborhood but see it is gated, so I manage to merge and am still licking away.
Looking down I notice that the warmth from my lap is melting the chocolate shell, adding to the sweet swamp in the middle of the napkin wad.
I'm nearing the end now. Chocolate is embedded in my fingernails and ice cream has dripped clear down to my elbows. I look in the mirror and have a chocolate smudge on my face. Thanking the good sweet Lord I have a fresh supply of baby wipes and I promptly go through five to begin the clean up, pulling into my garage as I wipe down the steering wheel.
Once inside I had to scrub up like a surgeon, but I think I've learned my lesson.
Next time I'll just go to froyo...