OK this is just a teensy bit off-color but I just have to share it because it so perfectly illustrates the value of a humorous moment deflating your Balloon of Doom and Gloom. We had a, um, not so joyful day of learning together today (I won't bore you with the details of my homeschooling angst), capped off by a starting-off-wonderful-turning-into-big-flop-at-the-end tae kwon do trial class for Ian. By the time we picked up Tim from school (too rainy for the bike), I was just barely holding back tears. We stopped at Central Market on the way home (kids eat free on Tuesdays!), and as we pulled into the parking lot, I noticed something through my blurry vision. Rather unfortunately, my eagle-eyed son did too, and next thing I know he's pointing to the car parked across from us and asking, "Why does that car say, 'WARNING: HOTTIE INSIDE' on the windshield?"
I tried, really I did, to maintain my sniveling composure and answer him with a smooth, nonchalant, "Well, perhaps that car is owned by someone named Hottie. As in, short for Horothea, or Hothilde." BUT, akin to my inability to read Dave Barry aloud to my husband, I could not make it though my sentence for giggling.
Mature and composed? Not so much. Feeling better almost immediately? You bet.