And baby makes 10

I never realized how easy it was getting out of the house with a 3 year old until I had another baby.  Why did it seem so hard when I just had one? On my way to pick Morris up from school, I decided it would be a nice idea to eat lunch (for a change) so I phoned in a sushi order.  

Now, don’t assume since I live in LA, I’m some kind of sushi freak.  Actually, I just had sushi for the first time a month ago, and have sort of been all over it since.  I’m one of those that when I find something good, I just WEAR IT OUT until I’m sick of it. (BTW, here is a great sushi website for fellow sushi novices) Usually, when I pick Morris up from school, I’m not this adventurous.  There are no stops on the way there and I come directly home after I pick him up. Why complicate things and increase the chance of a meltdown (from any of us)? So, as I’m gearing up for the “big adventure” before pick up, I am appalled at all the necessary gear for a 4 minute stop to pick up my take out order:

1.  Goldfish-Bronson is a happy baby…as long as he has food in his mouth

2.  Cooked carrots- in case we run out of Goldfish.

3.  Pretzel sticks- he likes holding something in his hand (and mouth).

4.  Cup/water- gotta have something to wash down the crudite.

5.  Hat- just in case the warm LA sun gets in his eyes during the 4.6 second walk from the car to sushi place door.

6.  Lyscal carrier- what if he gets cranky in the infant seat and wants to get out? He’s getting too heavy to just hold.

7.  Morris’s cup- Gotta keep the playing field equal.  Bronson can’t have a drink, and Morris not have one.

8.  Mom’s water- I can save a buck from the sushi place by bringing my own water (and save even more money by filling up the        old Fuji water bottle with filtered water from the fridge–I love that one).

9.  Baby toy- Just in case Morris isn’t ready at pick-up, this will help keep Bronson occupied.

10. Nail clipper- It’s so hard to cut Bronson’s fingernails.  The easiest way is when he is in the baby carrier holding a pretzel.

Whew.  All this, not to mention MY cell phone, car key, house key, lip gloss, and sunglasses.  I can’t believe I never carry a purse.  I must really look like a schmuck with all this crap stuffed into my pockets. I can only imagine if we were making a stop that actually involved activity.

And of course, the whole time Bronson is just sitting in his infant seat while I dart to and fro around the house (like a little squirrel gathering nuts). Just as I pick up the keys to lock up the house, he starts cooing and laughing and looks directly in my eyes.  I think he’s saying,

“Mom I will be absolutely fine without all that crap, but if it makes you feel better just bring it.”

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