You know you've lost it when you drive away with your iPad on the top of your car ...

Let me preface this post by saying that no iPads were harmed, lost or stolen during the following incident.

That being said ...

Please don't kill me, dear husband.

I took Abby and Jack to my parents' house today to visit. We visited Mom at work, then grabbed lunch and spent some time with Dad at the house.

The visit lasted about three hours.

I packed the kids up and drove away toward the freeway.

That's when a strange thing happened.

I was sitting at a light waiting to turn when the man next to me began honking frantically.

I immediately became irritated, wondering what this crazy man was doing.

He began pointing emphatically toward the back of my car. Was someone behind me doing something?

I looked at the car behind me in my rearview mirror, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

I looked back at the gentleman next to me inquisitively. He pointed toward the back of my car again.

That's when I saw it.

Our (::ahem:: Tom's) iPad on my back window.

My first reaction?

I looked at the gentleman next to me and mouthed, "Can you get it?"

Really, Chrissie? You're looking for this wonderful man who saved your arse to now get out of his car and retrieve your iPad for you?

I quickly got out of the car, got the iPad (which, thankfully, was hanging on to the car thanks to the cover being wedged into the slot of the trunk) and got back into the car. I looked at the gentleman next to me relieved and thankful. Good Samaritan for sure.

As I breathed a sigh of relief that my husband wouldn't be killing me today, I realized that he may have preferred the iPad go missing so he could get a new one with a camera.

Well, Tom, too bad for you, your iPad survived me leaving it on the top of my car and driving away. It actually survived my parents' block and all of Allen Road to the light at Southfield.

Let's make sure we keep this iPad cover - it provides great protection. 

Abby-isms

We have reached a new stage in development: the why-repeat-everything-need-things-now phase.

Yes, that's a thing.

It can definitely drive me up the wall. I remember thinking that the "why" phase really couldn't be that bad. I mean, you just have a little self control.

But once you hit the "why" and "repeat" phase, you recognize why people go insane in solitary confinement when they can hear a single water droplet dripping over and over and over.

The "what's that/why" phase
I thought I would be able to handle this. We're barely into it and it's driving me crazy.

"Mommy, what's that?" as she's pointing in the direction of approximately 75 things while I'm attempting to soothe a crying Jack while making her a waffle.

"I don't know - it's a ... cup."

"No, Mommy, it's a (inaudible)!"

"Yep, sure, sounds good."

Repeat phase, repeat phase, repeat phase
This one may be the death of me.

The other evening, Abby, Tom and I were playing with her Matchbox cars in the kitchen.

We were rolling them back and forth and Abby says, "Mommy? Play cars?"

"Yep, you're playing cars!"

At this point, I'm cheerful and upbeat.

"Mommy? Play cars?"

"Yep! Playing cars!"

I'm keeping it together. Haven't hit the wall yet.

"MOMMY! PLAY CARS!"

"YEP! You're PLAYING CARS!"

"MOMMYPLAYCARS?!"

Now I've lost it.

"YEP ... You're. Playing. Cars."

"MommyAbbyPlayingCars?!"

"DUDE! TAKE THE CAR!"

I-needed-it-a-minute-ago phase
This is typical.

Abby: "Mommy? Abby want crackers?"

Me: "Sure!"

I walk to the cupboard. Before I even get there ...

Abby: "Mommy? More water?"

Me: "Yep, let me get your crackers first."

Abby: "Mommy watch TV?"

Me: "Babe, I can only do one thing at a time."

I still have not successfully retrieved the crackers.

Abby: "Mommy? My finger hurts."

Me: "OHMYGOSHGIVEMEAMINUTE."

Medicine and Abby
Since she had to take antibiotics for an ear infection and because she has three molars currently breaking through, Abby has taken a lot of medication lately.

She now requests it frequently.

Abby: "Mommy? Need medicine?"

Me: "What hurts?"

Abby: "My foot."

Uh huh.

Abby: "Mommy? Need medicine?"

Me: "What hurts?"

Abby: "My finger."

We're working on it.