For the Love of Buttons

My boy, he loves buttons. What two year old doesn't, right? It drives me crazy sometimes. To get in and out of the car takes a solid extra 5 minutes, you know those 5 minutes after the extra 5 you  planned on needing are up? Those ones. And if you rush him, he will dawdle. Like all two year olds.

Well, today I was trying to avoid having to rush him in and out of the car one extra time. We were on our way home from a play group that happened to be nice and muddy, and my kids went and took off their shoes right about when I was thinking about loading up the car. So I took a couple trips carrying muddy kids and their shoes to the car and got them strapped in and left for home. We are out of bread at home. I usually make our bread because it's a million times yummier, and way cheaper than store bought, but making bread means that I need to grind wheat. Grinding wheat is loud, so I need a few minutes without the kids and that hasn't happened lately, so no bread. So I thought I'd stop by the store on the way home and grab a loaf for lunch. I didn't want to unstrap, and shoe, and deal with the button delays, and it was just a loaf of bread, how long could it take to get that? Not long. So I left the key in the ignition so the kids could have some air and some tunes, took the key fob thingy so I could lock them in and get back in afterward, and hurried in and out of the store super fast. Seriously, super fast. I was right. It didn't take long. Easy peasy.

Then I went to unlock the car. Nothing. Again? Nothing. A few more times for good measure...yeah. I'm an idiot. There I was in the Albertson's parking lot with my 3 kids in the car, and me and my loaf of blah bread out of the car. Thankfully, I brought the diaper bag with me so my phone was on hand. I had very nearly just grabbed my wallet out of the bag and left it all in the car, but I didn't. Whew. So, I called the Mister, and he hopped on his bike headed our way. Baby was sleeping, the little lady and my button pusher thought I was pretty funny for a while making faces through the window, but that got old, and the meltdown began. They are pretty inevitable these days, but it stinks when I actually caused it. My little lady sat there sobbing that she wanted to go home and I tried to console through the closed window. Not very successfully. I try consoling, and I trying distracting with more funny faces. I try to see if she can reach the lock, but it's a long shot, and I try to ignore the reflections I see on the window of people trying not to watch. All of us are pretty unsuccessful at this point. Then, in one of the reflections, and behind her crying face, there is a crack. An inch of light coming through from the other side. Amidst the hullabaloo my button pusher did what he does. I didn't think it was within reach, but those curious bare feet of his managed to push the window button down just a smidge. So I run to the other side of the car and talked him into pushing it a bit more, and a bit more, no, the other way, keep going. I hurry and unlock and open his door before he can switch directions and trap my arm in the window and a sympathetic lady in a minivan cheered with me. Captain Husband biked up and I gave him the cliffnotes, and told him we'd meet him at home for lunch. I am supposed to have learned a lesson from this. I think the thing I've learned is to be patient with button pushing. I'm not sure that's the one I was supposed to learn, but it's the one that stuck.