There is an awkward moment when, as you are drifting off to sleep, the memory of your child mentioning that she bought ice cream at school, didn't finish it, and put the leftover in her "insulated" lunchbag (which is still in her backpack), hits you like a ton of bricks and jolts you into consciousness. I'm so grateful that the puddle of strawberry goo did not damage anything, just created some inconvenience. If the lunch bag and backpack are not dry by morning, she will just have to brown-bag it and use her busted-up kindergarten bag (I know, I'm so abusive. I figured writing "ha-ha! NERD!"on a plastic grocery bag would going a little too far).
The truth is, I feel like I must be growing as a parent. I'm not mad. I'm actually slightly amused. No real harm was done, and I'm sure it won't happen again.
It reminds me much of a line from my favorite episode of...
"How Hermes Requisitioned His Groove Back"
Morgan Proctor: "Why is there yogurt in this hat?"
Fry: "I can explain. See it used to be milk, and... well, time makes fools of us all!"
