Backseats and Brothers Don't Always Get Along

So, all I know is that I called Buzz on the road late yesterday and he answered the phone in a huff. He was clearly NOT in a good mood. Apparently, the boys were messing around in the backseat during the 13 hour marathon car ride and Hayden somehow got himself wound in the seatbelt. The angel lock clicked on and the belt tightened around him. Buzz had to pull over and work to try to get the belt released. I'm a bit fuzzy on the details (which is probably a good thing), but I do know the outcome involved a pocket knife and a severed seat belt.

Dang.

Buzz insisted on taking the Honda Civic camping and leaving the minivan here for me to drive. (Chivalrous, but also a bit nuts.) The Civic is a really comfy little car, but the emphasis really is on the "little". With one seat belt toast, Hayden had to move to the middle of the back seat, which put about two millimeters between the boys for several hours. I wondered how that was going for them, but tried not to spend too much energy contemplating it because it is sort of like wondering how a seal enjoys sitting next to a polar bear.

Anyway, since Buzz went all Crocodile Dundee on the safety restraints, they are now going to have to seek out a Honda dealership to have a little repair done before heading home.

My day was much calmer by comparison, which is a good thing. The girls and I visited a new church this morning that we liked very much. Afterwards we went to Steak and Shake for lunch. Our waiter was late serving us, so they gave us milkshakes on the house. "Free milkshakes" and "perfect Sunday afternoon" are the same thing. After lunch we wandered through the fabric store where I picked up a few supplies to do a little project for Emma this week. Then we drove to the farm to teach Nana and Papa our new favorite card game while Emma took a nap.

We left the farm just as a wind was kicking up and trying to blow a storm our way. We stopped the car and rolled down the window to listen to the sound of the wind rustling through the wheat field. It sounded like a gentle rain. It was the perfect sound to follow a free shake.

We got home and let Emma play with sidewalk chalk for the very first time. She was intrigued at first.

But then the dog seemed more interesting than the chalk.

So Hannah started to doodle to show her how it's done.

And I decided to get my artsy groove thang on too. My sidewalk masterpiece.

I forgot how messy sidewalk chalk is. Thirty minutes later Emma was covered in powdery tattoos. We had just enough time to play in the tub before the storms finally did arrive. We headed out to my Mom's house as fat, heavy drops came splattering on the windshield. Emma seemed completely unconcerned by the lightning and thunder surrounding us, and I admired her bravery, because I'm still a little scared of thunder!

I have a standing date with my Mom to watch The Next Food Network Star every Sunday night. She's the only other person who can cheer and shout for food TV with me. We saw on the previews for tonight's episode that someone got sharply criticized for serving a dessert with raw dough, and we were desperately concerned that it was our favorite contestant, Melissa. Turns out, Debbie served the raw dough, along with braised short ribs that were decidedly quite tough.

I'm a die hard fan of riveting and compelling TV.

Happy of happys, Melissa made it to the final two and next Sunday night we will find out if she indeed wins the title of the next food network star. Given the fate of my beloved Jon and Kate, I've put all my eggs in Melissa's basket. If she pulls this off I've got myself a new favorite show, and all will be well with the fall viewing schedule.

Because it is essential to get the important details of life nailed down by late summer.

Well, it's been a sweet and satisfying day, and speaking of satisfying sweets, I have a confession. Sometimes late at night Buzzard sneaks out of the house to get us a little treat from Sonic. Tonight I need just a little taste of something, so I'm eating chocolate chips straight from the bag and drinking bottled Ozarka water. It isn't really doing it for me, and I miss my Sonic Stud.

But it's better than eating raw dough. And I don't have two little boys sitting rightsmackdab next to each other directly behind me. So somewhere out there tonight there are at least two people with a fate worse than my own.

Happy Sunday, y'all.