At the Car Wash

Because of Verizon (worst company EVER), we missed swim class on Tuesday. I won’t go into the whys of that, I’m still too frustrated to talk about it. So we made it up yesterday. Swim class is only a half hour and, frankly, I’m doing all the work, but that girl is dog tired after. Sophie is almost guaranteed to take a 2-3 hour nap afterwards.

We had some running around to do. So to make sure everyone was happy while we were out, we waited until after Sophie’s long post-swim nap to go. This did ensure her sunny disposition lasted through all of our scheduled outings. And then I had to push things that one step too far, as usual. There’s a car wash on the way home that has an automatic touchless wash and since I’m all for anything that keeps me comfortably in my seat and my car was one step away from “wash me” on the window, I paid the $10 and we rolled into the bay.

At first things were okay. But then Sophie started to pout. Now a pout doesn’t always turn into crying but crying is always preceded by a pout. If I can get to her fast enough and comfort her, often I can divert a meltdown. Not always, as the many people who have witnessed one of my delicate flower’s episodes can attest. However, locked in her car seat in the back, with me up front, there was absolutely no chance that I was getting to her in time.

I have to admit that at first I thought she was unhappy with my choice of singalong material, which happened to be Kix “Don’t Close Your Eyes.” I thought, well heck, maybe she doesn’t enjoy 80s hair bands. Fair enough. So I changed the station and the crying didn’t stop. That was when I noticed that the big cries came following each pass of the jets. I was more than a little anxious at this point as we weren’t even half way done because I HAD to get the super deluxe wash and there are 42 steps in the super deluxe wash. As each pass of the jets went by, she wailed louder, probably thinking we were in the middle of an air raid, while I awkwardly reached back and tried to console her as best I could. All to no avail. A baby crying in a car is misery…for the other occupants of the car. Between the blasts of soap, water, wax, and whatever else they shoot out and her screams, it was absolutely deafening.

In the end, we both survived, albeit just a tad frazzled, the car was cleaner than when it went in and I have probably lost yet a little bit more of my hearing...and sanity.

Parenting Lesson #457: Don’t take baby in automatic car wash.