He insisted on riding his bike and towing his trike - which was, in turn, towing the wagon. Despite all those extra wheels on the footpath, it was a s...l...o...w trip to the markets.
This may come as a shock, but I'm not really into cars. I like to walk and I definitely prefer public transport to driving. I couldn't tell you anything about a friend's car except for its colour and I only remember the kind of car I drive because it's fun to say 'Corollacoaster'. This week I achieved an impressive trifecta of fails at an important aspect of proper grown-up driving: Underground Car Parks. Little She woke just in time to jump in the car and meet our friends at the Barracks - no time for train or walking. It is so rare that I park in an underground car park that I couldn't tell you the last time I did. Or if I ever have, actually. We got there fine, turned into the underground parking, pulled up at the boom gate WAY too far from the ticket machine so climbed out of the car to hike over and fetch it. FAIL ONE!
Parked, gathered my stuff (bag, phone, parking ticket and my baby), headed up to meet our friends. A couple of hours later, getting ready to head back to the car park, I couldn't find the ticket. Anywhere. Searched again. Again. Went back to the car and searched in there. No luck. Locked the car and saw it balancing on the roof, by her door. FAIL TWO!
Back upstairs to have it validated by the cinema people. Back downstairs to pay for parking, take my change, then head to the car. Baby in, driving towards the exit. Realised I didn't have my ticket anymore and wouldn't get out the boom gates. Parked in a different space, got Baby out again, walked back to the ticket machines, found my ticket (thankfully) still sticking out, waiting for me. FAIL THREE!
Impressive, I know! Do I get a prize?