At three o’clock The Daddy called.

“How are you?” I asked.

“Fine”, he replied. Then a pause.

“Go on then”, I said cheerily, “ask me how I am!”

“Um…” he said, “I can hear the screaming.”

When I woke up Friday morning it was going to be my cruisy day. It was going to be my lazy day. It was going to be my day, after weeks of bouncing from one thing to another like a demented Tigger. The Friday page of my little red agenda was blissfully, beautifully bare.

Then Baby Sister threw up all over the breakfast table.

So I reluctantly allowed her to stay home from pre-school, because she had, after all, thrown up, although the thought remained in the back of my mind - no in the front of my mind, there in big red letters behind my eyeballs - that it was all just a cunning ruse to avoid school.

And at first she proved me right. She was happy during the kindergarten run, cheery when we got home and she was allowed to watch PBS Kids, and she did an admirable impression of the Cheshire Cat when it got to 10 am and I decided that if my day was going to be monopolized then it may as well be monopolized at the mall. And not just at the local exburban mall but at the fancy pants mall in “town” (as we like to call those suburbs slightly closer in).

I needed to buy her some new shoes anyway so my excuse for the day was “shoes”.

On the way through the mall, I grabbed a few cheap t-shirts and hurriedly swiped my card (BTW I always lose the receipts, so if they don’t fit I will be wearing them anyway). I had managed to shop for myself! Things were looking up!

But something started to go slightly wrong in the shoe store, right around the second pair of shoes. Baby Sister suddenly, unfathomably, began to do a very good impression of an Alzheimers patient. Every time she was asked to walk around and feel if they were comfortable she would stare into space, make a completely unrelated comment, or wander vacantly out of the store. I didn’t help matters at all by insisting she try on umpteen pairs, because they had a “get the second pair half price” sale on and I was determined to save $20 even if it meant that do accomplish this goal I would have to hand over $20 more than I had planned. After all, this was the good mall, and the last time I found the time to set foot in the place was November of 2007. No joke. I was a woman on a mission.

So finally we walked out of there with two pairs of new shoes.

… Unfortunately, there is more.

The Wictor was hungry, and we were right in front of McDonalds. Which is where I got my just desserts. For, as the food arrived, Baby Sister threw up all over the table and herself.

The really really strange thing is, this task accomplished, she perked up, and insisted on eating her Happy Meal.  I had peeled off her sodden t-shirt and jeans and she walked out of McDonalds proudly attired in one of my new purchases, which I explained to her was “just like a dress”.

Expect it wasn’t. And as we walked the length of the mall back to the car, heads held high, every single person we passed stared.