Kiwi Problem

No, this isn’t about some New Zealander I had a fling with. That was years ago and it was no “problem” – wink, wink, nudge, nudge – if you know what I mean. This is a classic mom-tale.

Daphne with kiwis

It’s the end of a busy day, one in which I think I am getting a cold. The end of the week is busier for me because I work on my TV show on Thursdays and Fridays. I’ve got enough squared away so Viv and I can go to my sister’s and watch the last presidential debate. Well, so I can watch and she can play with her cousins.

Under the pile on the kitchen counter, I see a note from the school. My mother-in-law picked up Viv as she often does, God bless her, so I hadn’t seen the note. In honor of “F” week (each week, a new letter is featured), the class is making fruit salad. Vivien needs to bring – I hold my breath, hoping it’s something we have already – bananas? Grapes? Plums? Strawberries? Apples? Oranges?  I just went to Whole Foods; I have everything! Oh wait, no, I don’t – she is supposed to bring two to three kiwis. Certainly I have a day to accomplish this? No, by tomorrow morning. Grrrr.

I was lucky. Vivien’s babysitter was just about to leave, so I asked her to please go to the store and get me kiwis (I didn’t want to miss the debate). She did. So this morning, I got Viv and myself out the door on time (miracle), with no tears (second miracle). We walk into her classroom and DUH. I FORGOT THE DAMN KIWIS.

My husband is not working this morning, so I just farmed it out to him to go back to school. I’m afraid what else I will screw up!

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