As I was leaving a grocery store today with an extremely full cart, we hit a rather large hole in the parking lot and several things came shooting out of our cart. Including a gallon of milk and a big bottle of Gatorade, both of which immediately exploded and gushed liquid through the nooks and crannies of the parking lot. Abby felt guilty and upset and started bawling, which I later found out was mostly because her favorite skirt was now wet with a strange mix of milk and purple Gatorade. So I am halfway to our car with our cart filled to the brim with groceries and stuck in a pothole, Abby is crying hysterically and apologizing, and Sam decides to join in with sympathy tears. A nice gentleman who saw what happened yelled over to ask if I needed anything. I'm not even sure what I said, but I must have sounded like I needed help because he dislodged our cart, cleaned up the now-empty bottles, and laughed with me. I needed that. Even 5 minutes later during the obligatory retelling to Roy, my tired body and mind were ready to cry over that spilled milk.
It's still not funny, but it's getting there.