A Moment of Clarity

I only need add a few details to my cousin’s well-written summary of the straws that broke the back of her birthday. When we left the restaurant without having eaten, one member of the party didn’t understand the reasoning, and didn’t understand that yes, lunch was still in her future. So as A and I walked along Seventh Street, she would periodically collapse onto the sidewalk, howling bitterly, lashing out with hands, nails, teeth, feet—anything she could use as a weapon. We got more than our share of attention, I think. No one stopped to ask why I was brutalizing a child, so it must have been clear who the brutal one was.

Eventually, she calmed down, I met the rest of the gang back at the van. JaxMom was still on the phone, so I headed them up and moved them out, meeting her at the exit to the parking lot. We did indeed go back to the cabin where I threw peanut butter, jelly and bread at the children, then got them interested in a math game. (Muggins! I do love the Muggins math games.) JaxMom took a walk to the campground store and a nap.

When M and I went to go get dinner that evening—this would be my godson, M, who is perfect—he turned to me with a guilty smirk and said, “You know earlier, in the restaurant, when Mom snapped? And she said, ‘Forget it! We’ll just go through McDonald’s drive-through on the way back to the cabin!’? That was completely something that I would have said!” I agreed. I’ve never wondered where a certain perfect godchild got his flair for the dramatic. (Not that I’m casting any stones, mind you. Just an observation.)