So here's the deal, Ash's school isn't far and everyday when we drive to school, she comments on how other kids are walking and riding their bikes. She knows her parents are too paranoid for her to ever ride the bus, but she's asked a few times when will we be walking to school.
Cough. Choke. "Um, soon, I think."
So I finally decided we should try it. I mean, I try not to see that one mom every morning who's jogging while pushing her double stroller to and from school. (Seriously, she never even pauses.) That's cool for her, really. But this mom hasn't been jogging behind any double strollers recently. Anyway, I pulled out our dusty-from-lack-of-use stroller the other day, packed up Linc, and headed toward the school (feeling very Laura Ingalls Wilder-ish) to pick up Ashtyn. She was ecstatic (and surprised) when she saw me and Lincoln arrive. We head back across the field and I'm thinking that this is going to be okay. I mean, I'm sweating, which isn't the coolest, but I'm from Texas, I've sweat before. So we're walking and I'm asking how her day went and then she starts doing the potty dance (aka, squirming).
Oh good grief.
I ask if she has to go to the bathroom, hoping I've misinterpreted the potty dance. But alas, she does have to go to the bathroom. The day we're a mile away from our home and I'm pushing this huge, old stroller--she needs to go to the bathroom. All we can do is try to reach the park bathrooms across the field, amid the sea of other kids heading home. Are. You. Kidding. Me. This means that this mama has to now run while pushing a stroller that's holding Lincoln, my enormous purse, and Ashtyn's backpack.
If I was sweating before, that was nothing.
Have I ever told you that I must have crazy sweet blood that mosquitoes flock too? And when I get a mosquito bite, it swells up something awful? Growing up, we dealt with this by keeping a can of OFF by the front door at all times. In Colorado, I'm less prepared. But having now braved nature on this day, I get a mosquito bite. We reach the park bathrooms, which are park bathrooms (not the greatest). I push the stroller inside, help Ash take care of everything, and then we leave the bathroom and Mommy has received three more mosquito bites.
By the time we get home, I am gasping for air, my face is like a tomato, I am literally dripping with sweat, and I am starting to itch from the whelps on my arms.
Darling Ashtyn cocks her head and looks me over, then says, "Maybe we should drive tomorrow."