Friday evening ~
The mom of one of LG’s friends called and asked if the girls could hang – they were going to go to the park and then Chick Fil A. Heck yes LG can go. This was around 6:45. At nearly 10:00 my child still wasn’t home. A calm panic set in and I call the mom. No answer. Give it a few minutes and call again. No answer. I hop in my car and ride over to their house thinking the girls probably sweet talked their way into some additional play time. They’re not there. Um. I call again. The mom answers. Oh, we’re in your driveway. I hang up and head home. I tell her that when you tell me you’re going two places with my kid and that you’ll be back in an hour or so, three hours is too dadgum long. You need to call and let me know that you’d like to extend the time LG will be away. I don’t mind that y’all went and ran errands – one of which was getting her phone serviced and the reason she didn’t answer – but common courtesy would dictate that you let me know. LG can’t go anywhere with them again.
Saturday morning ~
LG asks the girl behind the check in counter at the YMCA for help. The girl tells her no, she has to stay behind the counter. Grrrr. I calmly ask LG to get in the car, and I pull around to the front of the Y and go in and talk to the chick. She confirmed LG’s version of what happened. I’m sorry. An 8 year old kid walks up to the counter, asks for help and you tell her no? What part of crazy as hell is this? I put on my “blank faced stare” face and using the lowest, creepiest tone of voice I could muster read her the riot act. It is incomprehensible to me that you would not help a kid. Dumb ass.
Saturday afternoon ~
Smoochy ran me hot.
I went to church and asked God to forgive me the horrible, horrible thoughts I’d had about various and sundry people all weekend long.
I’m still hot. Y’all pray for me.