We'll Be Back in February
I changed the oil in my car yesterday. This is a vital and complicated piece of automobile maintenance that involves driving to an oil change place, giving them the keys, and reclaiming the keys several minutes later after giving them several dollars. At least that’s how I change my car’s oil.
This was a remarkable event because I ventured outside the house with all three children and no adult assistance. Generally I only leave home with the four of us when there’s a meeting with someone with a doctorate-level education involved, and even the chances of making that meeting are iffy unless the doctorate is in medicine. Lawyers can wait.
We made the trip because my car’s oil needed changed. I know this because the last time they changed the oil, they left a sticker reminding me to return in three months or 3000 miles. That way when the service comes due, I’ll start looking at my schedule to find a time to cram it in before the engine suffers any serious damage. I made it back in five months and 4000 miles, so I consider that a success. The upcoming Thanksgiving holiday spurred me into action, so that when relatives I see once a year question my parenting techniques, at least I can be confident that I’m transporting my children in a vehicle with fresh engine oil.
I’d been waiting for Ellie to be home during the day so she could help watch the kids during the oil change. It turns out that this is a rare event, though, and we never felt like wasting it by sitting around waiting for an oil change. Instead we always opted for sitting around a restaurant waiting for food to arrive, and then hoping we could finish our food before Abbie grew too bored to sit.
I drove to a quick lube place. My plan was to walk the kids to a nearby clown-based restaurant for lunch while they finished my car, so the quick element was probably unnecessary. A leisurely lube would have sufficed, but such a place doesn’t exist, so I opted for the full-price quick lube.
A helpful attendant approached my car when I arrived to start the service. I opted for the basic oil change instead of the premium-for-suckers-only oil change, gave him my keys, and warned the guy it would take me a minute to unload the car. Circus music probably rolled through his head as he watched me pry child after child after child from the back seat.
Several minutes later we were on our way to the restaurant. It’s down the street a half-block, which looks like an easy walk while you’re driving by. When you’re actually walking the sidewalk inches from a busy street with a double-stroller in one hand and a toddler prone to darting in random directions, it’s a little harder.
I ordered Abbie a kid’s meal at the restaurant and a sandwich for myself. The boys snacked from a bowl full of Tasteeos since they ate before we left. We sat in the playground section, a two-story enclosure that lets children run and scream without bothering the childless patrons who simply want to eat their clown-based meal in peace.
Abbie ate two chicken nuggets before running to the equipment. This was our first trip here, and I wanted to see what she thought of the playground. It turns out she didn’t think much of it since it’s designed for ages 3 and up, not all the way down to two-and-a-half and up.
The main feature of the playground is an enclosed spiral staircase leading to a netted-in upper level. Up top, children can interact with several imaginative toys like bullhorns and steering wheels, or they can slip down the giant tornado tube slide.
Abbie immediately found the staircase and ascended to the upper-level. Unfortunately she has no imagination and fears tornado slides. While I finished my sandwich and replenished the boys’ Tasteeo supply, Abbie stood at the net, stared at me, screamed, and wildly signed, “help.” I had to retrieve her by climbing the enclosed spiral staircase while hunched over to the size of a three-year-old.
That experience properly scarred her as she finished her meal without wandering. I packed up everyone and returned to the oil change place where my car was waiting with fresh oil. I paid to get my keys out of hock, loaded the kids back up, and made note of the fresh sticker, reminding me to return in three months, 3000 miles, or whenever my engine starts making a grinding noise. Whichever comes first.
This was a remarkable event because I ventured outside the house with all three children and no adult assistance. Generally I only leave home with the four of us when there’s a meeting with someone with a doctorate-level education involved, and even the chances of making that meeting are iffy unless the doctorate is in medicine. Lawyers can wait.
We made the trip because my car’s oil needed changed. I know this because the last time they changed the oil, they left a sticker reminding me to return in three months or 3000 miles. That way when the service comes due, I’ll start looking at my schedule to find a time to cram it in before the engine suffers any serious damage. I made it back in five months and 4000 miles, so I consider that a success. The upcoming Thanksgiving holiday spurred me into action, so that when relatives I see once a year question my parenting techniques, at least I can be confident that I’m transporting my children in a vehicle with fresh engine oil.
I’d been waiting for Ellie to be home during the day so she could help watch the kids during the oil change. It turns out that this is a rare event, though, and we never felt like wasting it by sitting around waiting for an oil change. Instead we always opted for sitting around a restaurant waiting for food to arrive, and then hoping we could finish our food before Abbie grew too bored to sit.
I drove to a quick lube place. My plan was to walk the kids to a nearby clown-based restaurant for lunch while they finished my car, so the quick element was probably unnecessary. A leisurely lube would have sufficed, but such a place doesn’t exist, so I opted for the full-price quick lube.
A helpful attendant approached my car when I arrived to start the service. I opted for the basic oil change instead of the premium-for-suckers-only oil change, gave him my keys, and warned the guy it would take me a minute to unload the car. Circus music probably rolled through his head as he watched me pry child after child after child from the back seat.
Several minutes later we were on our way to the restaurant. It’s down the street a half-block, which looks like an easy walk while you’re driving by. When you’re actually walking the sidewalk inches from a busy street with a double-stroller in one hand and a toddler prone to darting in random directions, it’s a little harder.
I ordered Abbie a kid’s meal at the restaurant and a sandwich for myself. The boys snacked from a bowl full of Tasteeos since they ate before we left. We sat in the playground section, a two-story enclosure that lets children run and scream without bothering the childless patrons who simply want to eat their clown-based meal in peace.
Abbie ate two chicken nuggets before running to the equipment. This was our first trip here, and I wanted to see what she thought of the playground. It turns out she didn’t think much of it since it’s designed for ages 3 and up, not all the way down to two-and-a-half and up.
The main feature of the playground is an enclosed spiral staircase leading to a netted-in upper level. Up top, children can interact with several imaginative toys like bullhorns and steering wheels, or they can slip down the giant tornado tube slide.
Abbie immediately found the staircase and ascended to the upper-level. Unfortunately she has no imagination and fears tornado slides. While I finished my sandwich and replenished the boys’ Tasteeo supply, Abbie stood at the net, stared at me, screamed, and wildly signed, “help.” I had to retrieve her by climbing the enclosed spiral staircase while hunched over to the size of a three-year-old.
That experience properly scarred her as she finished her meal without wandering. I packed up everyone and returned to the oil change place where my car was waiting with fresh oil. I paid to get my keys out of hock, loaded the kids back up, and made note of the fresh sticker, reminding me to return in three months, 3000 miles, or whenever my engine starts making a grinding noise. Whichever comes first.
posted by Matt at
11:25 PM
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