Casa Ole Antics

Casa Ole is not the place to learn gymnastics.

Today, Baby C and I went out with Auntie Sara and James to Casa Ole for some slightly Tex-Mex food. Baby C decided to try a booster seat, against my better judgment. Then, two thirds of the way into a slightly stressful lunch, I was making a rice tortilla, when Sara screamed. I threw the tortilla on my plate, and turned just in time to see Baby C's feet flying over the booth (she was headfirst) into the seat behind us. Luckily, there were no people sitting there. Or unluckily. She was unhurt, and popped up immediately, smiling but looking slightly shocked.

I told Sara she might need to take me to the ER for cardiac arrest. The people at a nearby table waited to make sure Baby C was OK, and then laughed and laughed. They offered to take me to the ER.

Well, the cheese nachos were good. And the cheese didn't end up on the floor. Or in a backpack. It was a successful day.

Cheese dip is no more

Cheese dip in a backpack. All in the backpack. That's how the DAM Family morning began this morning.

Little B has his holiday party on Friday, and needs to bring a dip. Luckily, I had the forethought to get two dip choices at the local grocery mart on Monday. He had the choice of spicy queso dip and hot bean dip. The bean dip is the one that made it to school.

And the spicy queso dip made it into the trash can after a mad rush to find a new backpack, clean off the homework folder, and to the second bus stop in the neighborhood, all within three minutes.

Seven-year-olds should not take glass dip jars to school, even after three-five reminders to be very careful. At least it didn't happen on the bus???