I Remembered the Baby, Didn't I?

Baby Girl's mother is a good-natured, patient woman. This is a good thing. She needs a lot of patience--not to deal with Baby Girl, but to deal with me and my efforts to be a dependable, grandmotherly person.

I know I'm not supposed to give Baby Girl "kiki" (candy), so I don't. But she and I each have a sweet tooth, so I'm ever in search for "kiki" replacements. Her enthusiastic response to Costco's latest dried fruit treats ("Just fruit, no preservatives!") felt like a great victory. We ate them with gusto at the free concert we attended today to give Baby Mom a chance to pack for a camping trip. After the concert, we played with the crayons, markers, puzzles, books, and princess dress-up clothes I keep at my house for her. She was well and truly tired after our adventures.

When I returned Baby Girl to her mother, she was glassy-eyed and ready for her nap. Another victory! Her mother would get a couple more precious hours without coloring, puzzles, and demands for kiki. Baby Girl Mom retrieved the car seat and the diaper bag from my car. We chatted, she retrieved Baby Girl as she made a run for the neighbor's house, we chatted some more, then she put the car seat into her car. Much "bye-bye," hugging, "see you tomorrow," and waving ensued.

As I pulled into a supermarket parking lot fifteen minutes later, Baby Girl Mom called. She was laughing. "You remember that I pulled the diaper bag out of your car?" (She knows my Boomer brain is becoming more decrepit each day. I assured her I did, wondering if this was a test.) "Well," she continued, "it seems I didn't remove it from behind your car. It now has a perfect tire track right down the middle of it!" (Oh, good. It isn't a test. I'll still be allowed to take Baby Girl without a chaperone.) "You didn't manage to crush the box of baby wipes, though." I offered to come back and have another go at it, but for some reason, she declined. Whew! I still looked good (I think).

When I opened my trunk after shopping, I blinked a couple of times, trying to grasp the meaning of the accordioned pink and purple nylon thingie in the middle of it. (If you don't use an umbrella stroller every day, your brain might have trouble deciphering what it is. Mine did, anyway.) Ooops. So much for looking good!

One embarrassing oversight doesn't erase two really good victories, does it? I hope not. I'll find out from Baby Girl Mom when I return the stroller. I'm sure she'll understand that no chaperone is required--yet!