On Saturday the family set out to explore a cute little town nearby. It had kitschy collectible stores, antique shops, waterfront restaurants and historic hubs.
At first, the girls did amazing. They were happy during lunch and tried new foods without complaining. Sweet Violet took a nap in my carrier, and Harper the Brave didn't break anything. When we were about three hours past Harper's typical nap time, the beginnings of fussiness were starting to show. We decided to call it a day.
Nick and I high-fived each other; super proud of ourselves for being able to do grownup things for an entire afternoon without any mishaps. "We have awesome kids!" "We could do this everyday!"
We got too cocky.
We decided to stop in one last shop on the way to the car. It was one of those two-story shops in what used to be an old house. It was filled with thousands of random things. On the second floor, Nick called my attention to a cool jar. While we debated where it could go in our house, Harper went rogue.
Then we hear the "eh eh eh" sound she makes when she's stuck or pulling against something. Typically she does it when she's in her carseat. Like, if we think she's actually stuck instead of just buckled in, we'll release her. But this time she actually was stuck.
Luckily (and I use that term loosely) Nick's pocket knife had one of those little scissors on it so we could cut Harper's hair free. We walked the rest of the way back to the car shaking our heads. We knew better.
I felt like Brett Favre. We should've called it a day when we were ahead. Instead we left in a cloud of embarrassment.
Good game, girls. You win again.
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