Yesterday, we spent the afternoon at my brother-in-law's house for a BBQ. Photobaby was cranky because she didn't take a good morning nap and then skipped her afternoon nap in favor of being fawned over by her cousins. So, we ended up leaving early. Of course, that girl fell asleep in the car, so we drove around looking at houses we can never afford to give her some much-needed time to snooze. When we headed home, I was determined to keep her happy until 6:30, when I'd put her to bed (early - because she was soooo tired). That plan came to a halt at 6:15, when I realized that I'd left Photobaby's formula at my brother-in-law's house. Our last can. We had two partial cans (I'm not even sure how that happened), so I'd combined them. So all of our formula was 30 minutes away.
I called my husband in and asked him to go get food for our poor, tired, hungry baby. What I meant was, "Please go to the Hy-Vee grocery store five minutes down the road and buy a can of formula." What he heard was, "Please drive 30 minutes to your brother's house and get our formula and bring it home."
Hmm.
After I'd done a song and dance for 45 minutes, trying to keep Photobaby from having a full-blown meltdown, I tried to call him. He didn't answer. Which of course made me certain he'd had a car wreck between our house and the store.
Thankfully - for all of us - he called back as soon as he got service (his brother lives outside our cell service area), and we realized that we'd completely misunderstood each other.
Poor Photobaby! She went to bed LATE instead of EARLY, and she has two parents who don't even speak the same language!
