Fly Away

Because I am a closet genius I’ve have planned everything down to the last detail, to include all possible unexpecteds.

After two weeks of walking to or from school, I am confident that walking to breakfast will be a breeze. Because it will be a breeze, I have added some optional extras. The radio flyer carries a stack of overdue library books, a sack of dry cleaning and a pair of shoes to be re-heeled. Each one of these errands will be attempted. Whilst it is highly unlikely that we will manage to go into three different establishments on foot and complete each transaction, we shall try.

It’s all about compromise. Initially I baulked at suggesting a compromise to a three year old but old parents must move with the times. Whilst I’m now in league with the school and the therapists when it comes to compromise, the years tick by with no discernible progress.

Ideally I would like to attempt these attempts prior to breakfast, so that I have some ammunition for task completion. However, imminent malnutrution means a reversal of fortunes. I conclude that with full tummy's they may be more compliant in any event.

We hop, skip, and lurch in the general direction of the restaurant as I haul the radio flyer. With the radio flyer full, no-one can steal a free ride, even though they try. En route we practice useful phrases such as 'please may I.' We try adjusting volume control since the servers are unlikely to be wearing noise canceling ear muffs. My son volunteers to lug the radio flyer. I dither briefly, but concede, working on the theory that it might slow him down a mile or two, equalize the handicap, as in golf.

As the restaurant appears before us, he hurtles off at top speed, apparently unimpeded by the drag as the radio flyer jack knifes behind him. He veers to the right, to the car park and squares off it off in one of the painted car park spaces, neatly, straight and aligned next to the disabled permit spot. He steps back to admire his handiwork, hands on hips, back arched, contemplative.

“We can't leave it over here dear. Lets pop it over there by the door where we can see it.”
He looks at me as if I am a traffic warden, which I suppose I am. His eyes widen as he goes from 0 to 10 in less than a second, throws himself on the tarmac and shrieks.

Now that I wasn’t expecting.

The faces behind the panes of glass turn in our direction, a little light entertainment during breakfast for the patrons. I wait for him to subside in the hope that we can find some common ground, although preferably not in this particular parking spot.
“This spot is for cars dear, not radio flyers.”
“Why?”
“Um…..it's only for vehicles that drive on roads.”
“Wheel chairs are not drive on roads.”
“How true…….it's too small, it might be squished by a big car.”
“Why?”
“They might not see it,……it's so small!”
“But it is red!” he screams.
“Maybe we could take it inside?” I muse to no-one in particular. In my mind's eye I try and visualize squeezing 4 foot of red plastic into a crowded restaurant.
“Dat is stoopid! Yah cant take a vehicle into a restaurant.”
Why I am dogged by categories?
“Yah gotto compomize guys,” announces my 8 year old as he surveys the deadlock.

I wasn’t expecting that either!

“Compomize!” repeats his brother with a combination of outrage and disbelief.
“What a good idea! What would you suggest dear?” He ponders, rubs his chin in contemplation, but before we receive the decision of Solomon his little brother sparks into life, “I know!” he jumps to his feet, flips over the radio flyer and crawls underneath, a turtle in silence.

Well I certainly wasn’t expecting that either!

Always expect the unexpecteds.

Today I am also over at Trusera with “Gift Horses.”

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