Out of gas

On Wednesday night we had our ward Halloween party, which started at 6:30. I knew we'd be crunched for time since we had to eat dinner and get all costumed up, especially since Rachel's had a substitute bus driver this past week—which means her bus has been running about half an hour behind schedule. She didn't walk off that bus until 4:30 in the afternoon and—did I mention that's awesome because that used to be her regular time but there was some kid on her route who gets car sick so they reversed the route and now she is supposed to get dropped off at around 4:00.

I think I did a happy dance when I got that letter from the transportation department.

Anyway...

She wanted to play with the neighbours when she got home, so I told her that she was welcome to...until Daddy got home because then it was going to be time for dinner. I expected him home on time because we had this party to get to. But he was late.

I watched the minutes creep by on the clock.

5:05...

5:10...

5:15...

5:20...

5:25...

5:30...

Where was he?! He's not exactly the best at communicating when he's going to be late (eek!).


He finally stumbled through the door—sometime between 5:30 and 5:45—a sweaty, exhausted mess.

"Ran out of gas," he panted. "Had to push my scooter from the bridge to the gas station!"

That's more than half a mile, in case you're wondering (and the gas station isn't far from our house, which is why he was still panting) and being the good wife that I am, I let a giggle escape before clapping my hand over my mouth and saying, "I'm sorry!"

Durham has a dearth of sidewalks so he had to push his scooter in the gutter while cars were whizzing past him at 45 MPH. Poor guy.

We had about fifteen minutes to wolf down dinner and wrangle the kids into their costumes before we had to leave, but we managed it.

And now we have this great story. We've already used the phrase, "Remember that time you ran out of gas..." several times and it's only been a two days.