Now that the kiddo has finally decided to take a nap, here is the promised story of our Fourth of July incident:
Soggy weather and a very tired Dozer dampened plans to take him to see fireworks for the first time, but it surely didn't prevent big explosions from happening.
After hanging out at Grammy and Nana's for a bit, we ventured home when Dozer began rubbing his eyes and stumbling into everything in his path. The next hour or so is a bit fuzzy as I was focused solely on getting the crankster to bed. I do remember DadMan and EvyMonster going out for something.
A little note on EvyMonster: she may be a big fierce Doberman, but she is scared silly of loud noises and rumblings.
EvyMonster + teeny Nissan Sentra + fireworks everywhere + a not-so-strategically located bottle of pepper spray (DadMan planted and insisted I carry in my car always) = disaster for DadMan.
This is how it all went down:
I'm savoring the peace of some coveted "me" time when in comes DadMan. He had been looking like someone just delivered a swift sidekick to his gutt. Evy bound in leaping around (nothing too unusual there). I asked what the matter was and if he was okay. He didn't answer. Then I realized he wasn't exactly breathing with ease. So I got up and persisted, "What is going on?!?" while I was rubbing my itchy eyes.
"Your pepper spray went off," he wheezed. I fight the urge to cough. I lose. I didn't have to ask how because this isn't the first time this has happened. In fact, this is the third time Evy somehow took off the safety and proceeded to shower herself and others with the pepper spray.
You'd think we would have learned our lesson by now that it was more of a danger to us than anyone else. But no-oo, DadMan insisted we keep it and find another place for it. Each time. I could put the damned thing in the trunk and she would still find it! (There will not be a fourth as I promptly put the assailant in it's proper place -- the trash)
After a few minutes, DadMan elaborated on the way she jumped from the backseat into the front and in the process set off the deadly stream directly at DadMan and my dash. Luckily, it only got his arm. Unfortunately, that was enough for him to be sent into an immediate eye-watering, coughing frenzy for the rest of the ride home.
It was pretty funny actually listening to his line of reasoning and detailing the trip. I mean, come on, wouldn't most people pull over and air out a bit first or something? Not DadMan. He chose to drive down the street and through the neighborhood hanging out of the door. My very own Ace Ventura. Just what I always dreamed of.
Once things settled, we took EvyMonster outside for a hose-down. It was now around midnight and we were doing our best to be quiet so as not to awaken any slumbering babes, which is not the easiest of tasks given Evy's strong dislike of baths. However, it was the easiest bath we've ever had to give. Poor girl, she must have really been feeling the sting for her to submit so easily!
DadMan finally was feeling better as well and started laughing. "Straight from Beck."
My tired, annoyed, and stressed brain failed to make the connection. "huh?"
"Shave your face with some Mace in the dark..."
So we bust into laughter with our soaped up EvyMonster, singing:
"Soy un perdedor. I'm a loser, baby!..."
and thanked God we don't have maggots on our sleeves.
p.s. -- any ideas on how to get my dash clean? So far nothing I've tried has been able to cut through the foggy residue left behind. Poor Sentra; the beating goes on...