When I was younger and thought about my older self, I always wondered what I’d be like and where I’d work and who my friends would be and if I would live in a mansion with gold faucets and a laundry chute from the second floor and wear leg warmers after I turned 30.
And then I would close my eyes and imagine my future family.
I hoped they’d be silly.
I imagined a big, ramshackle, creative, zany family with lots and lots of kids and pets and laughter and an understanding husband….
….who never met a dad joke he didn’t like.
A while back we headed out for an all-day family excursion.
To corral six people and picnic supplies and books and blankets and movies and bags full of snacks is an undertaking requiring extraordinary patience and fortitude.
Like herding cats.
And just when you think you have everything you need and everyone in the car….
….there’s always a weakest link.
Like the person who forgot the charger.
Or the person who ran back into the house for a hair band or the person who forgot the sunscreen or who remembered a book they wanted to read or the person who needed one more poptart for breakfast.
With each trip back into the house, I sat un-patiently in the front seat and sighed inwardly and rolled my eyes and said Hurry up through gritted teeth with an awkward smile pasted on my face and wondered why cats were so hard to herd.
And then…finally….it seemed we were almost ready.
The last person left the house. It was the poptart eater, walking up the sidewalk with a poptart in one hand and a jacket in his arms. He walked up to the car, plopped himself and his breakfast pastry on the seat and proclaimed he was ready to go.
At long last, the car pulled out of the driveway and turned down the winding road leading to the interstate. We passed the fields and the round bales of hay and the horse barn and the white fences….
….when all of a sudden I heard something from the back seat.
Startled, I turned toward the back seat to see Nash, our cat, peeking out of the jacket perched on my son’s lap.
What was he thinking bringing the cat in the car? Didn’t he realize a single meow would give him away.
Speechless, I turned toward my husband for moral support. I gave him a look that spoke volumes. The look. A look that said this is unacceptable and it needs to be addressed and let’s turn around and head home immediately.
My husband looked around the car and cleared his throat.
I waited patiently.
I knew he had read my look and understood.
I knew he realized this was the moment for instruction and fatherly wisdom. This was the time to step up to the plate and establish boundaries and reinforce the rules.
“No more cats in the car,” he began solemnly. And then all of a sudden he grinned and laughed, “You never know what might happen. After all….
…..it might have been a cat-astrophe.”
Dad humor. I love you to the moon and back. 🙂
PS If you want to make this DIY painted and stained sign, you can see the entire tutorial I previously posted ….here.
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