Poppy Inconceivably Almost Buys Ice Cream for One Child: Uncharacteristically, the Abbott get-together for Mother’s Day was peaceful. That peace and tranquility was wrecked by the cacophonous sound of… the Ice Cream Truck. I’m not sure how the Ice Cream Truck creates a sound that combines the vibe of a satanic message from a nursery rhyme played backward and music from a kids toy with dying batteries. For me, the sound rates with the noise from the neighborhood woodpecker that pecks the metal part of our chimney at 6:30 am.
Fortunately, most of the kids were too small to understand what that awful sound was. The exception was Brooke, who immediately began campaigning for ice cream, in spite of the fact that Scott and Katy had brought six cupcakes, one chocolate mousse pie, and one strawberry shortcake. When it comes to dessert quantities, you can never be too sure. There were eight adults, including one aged 97, and six kids counting a five-month-old. Apparently, there was some sort of scarring incident in Katy’s past that involved bringing less than enough food to a family gathering.
At any rate, here’s where things get strange. Somehow, having raised five kids of his own, Poppy decided to buy ice cream only for Brooke! Had that occurred, there would have been an epic meltdown after all of the other children realized that only Brooke was getting ice cream, and the meltdown probably would have been bad enough to put our Mother’s Day get-together in the top 50 worst Abbott family gatherings. For our family get-togethers, that’s saying something considering that at one graduation party a certain individual loaded urine into a squirt gun to get revenge on an uncle, and we won’t even count trips to or from family gatherings where people threatened to commit suicide by throwing themselves from/into a moving vehicle. Luckily, Laura prevented a disaster in this case by informing all of the children that Poppy was buying them ice cream. Crisis averted.
Sunday’s Plans Go Awry: Plan A: On Mother’s Day, the plan was that Anne, Carl, and Rita would come down to our place with sushi, champagne, brie, and crackers to eat and hang out.
Plan B: We get a call around 12:30 letting us know that Anne hurt her back and was on enough pain medication that a lucid conversation about which non-invasive native plant we should grow next in our backyard would have been impossible. Rita was still coming with all of the food, which was generously provided by Anne and Carl.
Plan C: At about 1:30, we discovered that Rita now had an obligation back in Fredericksburg and would have to leave within 45 minutes of arriving. So in about the same amount of time that people typically reserve for a McDonald’s lunch, we inhaled various sushi rolls, brie, and shrimp, giving us just enough time to take some pictures before Rita jetted off.
There was still the question of whether we should save the food and alcohol for later or consume it on Sunday. Demonstrating an astute understanding of American savings patterns, Laura decided to single-handedly dispose of the bottle of wine she had bought to split with Rita and Carl. Because we have fought too hard as a nation to have to save that bottle for later like some kind of Russian peasant.