Funny thing happened on the way to the forum....

Err, I mean school, this morning.  The car wouldn't start.  Turns out when we got home (late) last night from our adventure on the east side (you can read all about it tomorrow), one of the kids turned on one of the lights in the car.  We didn't notice, so it was left on all night, one thing led to another,..... yada, yada, yada......dead battery.

Now, did I mention it was a late night?  Good.  So if you can imagine, the kids were already struggling.  Poor Cy got drunk on fun and sugar, and had quite the hangover this morning.  Seriously.  He woke up complaining of a headache and saying his tummy hurt.  As my dad would always tell us after a night of staying up late and partying, "If you want to dance, you've got to pay the Fiddler!"  So, I told Cy to go poop, gave him his breakfast with a shot of Tylenol, got him dressed, and sent him on his way.

Or so I thought.....

After getting the kids in the car, Dave came back inside to tell me that the van was dead.  Dave jumped the car with his truck, and was able to get the kids to school on time (ya, cuz like that's not hard enough as it is!!!!!!  Throw a dead car battery into the gears and we come to a screechin' halt!).  When he came home I inquired if all was well.  He assured me it was and that the battery would recharge as we drove it around.

Now, just a little background info, we have one family vehicle that can fit all of us.  ONE.  We depend on this van to take us to church, to the store, and especially to school.  I leave my house AT LEAST three times a day in that van; drop-off, kinder pick-up, and 1st grade pick-up.  I am not carpooling with anyone this year.  I have no one I can fall back on "just in case" my car isn't working the way it should.  Me, not having a functioning safe vehicle, is NOT an option.

So fast forward to this morning when my husband assured me that all was well.  Because I am the paranoid practical sort, I asked Dave if he would check the van before he left for work.  He yielded to my paranoid practical tendencies, and graciously consented to check the car before he left, all the while assuring me that it would work just fine.

Guess what?

He was wrong.

For once (okay, more than once) my paranoid practical tendency was completely justified.  Actually, this isn't the first time my OCD/paranoia practicality has benefited my family, remind me to tell you about the garage door....that's a good one....alas, a story for another time, back to the tale at hand.

After attempting, unsuccessfully I might add, to charge the battery once more, Dave, my knight in shining armor, drove off in his trusty steed (the green booger) to acquire me a new and free (the one we had to replace was relatively new and under warranty, YIPPEE!) battery.

Here is proof, just in case his boss reads my blog (ya right), that Dave really was an hour late for work because I, his damsel in distress, needed him to rescue me.  (Too cheesy?  A little over the top, perhaps?  Ah well.  Maybe I should have titled this blog Sir Dave-a-lot.  But then that reminds me of Sir Mix-a-lot and now I have that song, "I Like Big Butts and I cannot lie, you other brothers can't deny...." stuck in my head and now it's probably stuck in yours isn't it.  Right?  Right?!?!  Come on, you know it is!  Sorry, I digress, back to the proof in pictures.)

Hard at work.  See Bridget, see!

This is the usual face I get when I end up being right.  Dave doesn't like to encourage my paranoia practical tendencies.  He tolerates them, but he doesn't encourage them.