Setting: August 2025 — a chaotic weekday in a 2,500 acre park.
We hadn’t even made it to the work picnic yet before things went off the rails.
At the McDonald’s drive-through on the way, I tried to pass a drink tray back to the boys. They wanted no part of it, shouted their protests, and in the standoff, the tray tipped. Holden’s Fanta exploded across the backseat. Both boys wailed like we’d been sideswiped. Caleb even whimpered that he was “scared.” Of what? I’ll never know... but orange soda apparently qualifies as a natural disaster.
Once we arrived at the 2,500-acre park, bathed in orange soda, things didn’t get easier. After minutes of searching for the right lodge, Holden announced with authority that he’d already seen that tree (out of thousands) and accused me of driving in circles. I dismissed him… until we ended up right back at the entrance. A circle, indeed.
Once we made it to the picnic, Holden became a one-man sideshow: smothering hot dogs in hot sauce, ambushing my coworkers with water balloons, asking to pet every dog in sight, and raiding the chip supply like a bandit.
On the drive home, he leaned forward with all the gravity of a confession. “Do you know my biggest fear?” I guessed bugs. He shook his head.
“Plastic surgery.”
And that was the moment I realized: Fanta, circles, chaos, chips, hot dogs... none of it phases him. But plastic surgery? That’s where he draws the line.
Sometimes motherhood feels like driving in circles — chaotic, sticky, and a little absurd — but even then, somehow, we still get where we’re going.
This post is part of my One-Minute Memoir series — short reflections on small moments that still manage to say something big.
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