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Just Keep Walking

Last summer, my daughter and I went on a little road trip.

She had gone to bed pretty late the night before, so she was asleep  about 15 minutes into the drive. I was jamming to "Africa" by Toto and  really enjoying myself. By the way, the song "Africa" reminds of one of my  dear friends, Sarah. I can't hear it without remembering her singing it  out at the top of her lungs as we drove down the highway to Palm  Springs, California. A great memory.

Back to my road trip.

At some point we came to a rest stop/gas station/Subway and decided  we needed a potty break, a treat and fresh drinks. I unbuckled her from  her car seat (note: I only undo the bottom buckle because she can undo  the top buckle), grabbed my stuff and we headed across the busy parking  lot. Because my hands were full, I made Mattie hang on to the pocket of  my pants. Half-way across the parking lot, the poor thing tripped on her  flip flops and down she went. So did my pants. Clear to my knees.  That's right folks, my pants were all the way to my knees as I stood in  the middle of oncoming, parking lot traffic.
It was awesome.

What could I do?

I did the only I could do. I just kept walking. Then, gracefully, I  dropped everything in my hands on the curb and reached down to pull my  pants up.

Did I mention how awesome this was?!

I was laughing so hard that I had tears streaming down my cheeks.  Mattie didn't know whether to laugh or hide for fear of my wrath. Even a  three year old knows that pulling your pants down in the middle of a busy  parking lot isn't good.

We proceeded into the rest stop/gas station/Subway and got our  refreshments and had our potty break. On our way back to the car, I held  Mattie's hand. I couldn't chance another pants-ing. As we drove off in the car, I let "Africa" blare while I sang at the top of my lungs.

I love a good memory!

Amy is a 30-something SAHM of 2 beautiful, precocious preschoolers and  wife to a hunky graphic designer and semi-pro football player. She is  also the chief cook and bottle washer at I Wish I Was in Dixie. Visitors always welcome!

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