Thursday, May 12, 2011

Whatcha gonna buy with that greenback?

While the kids were enraptured by peacocks, chickens and baby pigs, sheep and goats yesterday, I was standing on a lawn south of the Washington Monument, waiting for the patch glue to dry on the rear tube of my bike so I could head home again.

While the kids discovered what it looks like to see a goat being milked, I discovered that the bead on my rear tire had failed, separating in one stretch from the rest of the tire, creating a gap that the tube got pinched in, which caused it to explosively deflate--fortunately for me, just after I'd completed a turn in traffic at about 20 mph.

Actually, the way the timing worked out, it's likely that while I was doing some fast problem solving, patching and fixing using my patch kit, pump and a dollar bill, Mama and Grammy were just discovering that the Burger King they found one mile away from Kidwell Farm where they had been was out of macaroni and cheese.

That meant that while they were sitting in the hour long traffic jam between BK and home the kids had only fries and apple sticks to munch on. This explains why Jewel came through the door, sat down on the floor and started crying inconsolably.

3B handled it pretty well, despite having been a little concerned about the goat milking, and ate dinner while we read Tintin in bed to get him down at a reasonable time. Of course, he then got up 63 times to pee, find my shoes in the hallway, report a noise coming from our upstairs neighbor, tell us that the video monitor camera in his room was unplugged, and...Go. To. Bed.

Lie down. Close your eyes. Sleep. If you don't sleep now, you won't have energy to play tomorrow.

Honestly, I say those things just to make myself feel as if I've done something. The reality is that he'll go to sleep when he's good and exhausted and simply can't keep his eyes open or his mind spinning any longer. If I knew how to stop him from doing that, I would have stopped myself from doing that years ago.

As for Jewel, she got her "bahboo" full of warm milk that she had been calling for in the car and went straight down.

While they were sleeping, I ate dinner and Mama prepared the house so that in the morning we could do it all again. Except perhaps the goat milking, no mac and cheese, flat tire and traffic jam parts.

Papa Bradstein will drink only goat milk as he rides 200 miles across Massachusetts in two days to help fight cancer. Please support his ride.

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