Most. Expensive. Distraction. Ever.

Swim meets are not much fun for the little siblings. Let's face it. Swim meets are not much fun for the parents either. It is hot as blue blazes. You have to get there at 4:30 to stand around in the sun. No one swims until after 6. The relay team swims for roughly 2 minutes and then an hour later, the freestyle event lasts for 30 seconds, and 45 minutes later, the backstroke event lasts for thirty seconds. I may not be good at the math, but I'm thinking that adds up to about 3 minutes of excitement in about 3-1/2 hours. No wonder the sibs don't enjoy it.

So last night, after we'd been standing around in the heat for about an hour, Pressley was showing signs of being ready to have an epic melt down from the heat. I forgot to take our chairs, so there was nowhere to sit. We'd already had a blue Gatorade. My cell phone was about to have a dead battery, so I couldn't let her play a game on there. Then it struck me. I could put her in the car for a few minutes, plug in my phone, turn on the a/c full blast, and hopefully, she would emerge a different child by the time the meet actually started - cool and entertained. Perfect! Or so I thought.

Pressley has been going to gymnastics camp this week. When she gets in the car at 12:30 each day, I try to ask her about it, but I get one word answers and little enthusiasm. I'm guessing because she's tired and hungry. So, when we got in the car at 5:30 last night and P was up front with me, where she could enjoy maximum benefit from the cold air, she asked if I'd like to hear about her day at camp. I was thrilled that I was finally going to get some information about what she's been doing for 3-1/2 hours each morning.

She sat there in the giant front passenger seat like a little lady and began her explanation. Something about being cookies and sitting in the cookie jar if someone touched her on her bottom....OKaaaaaaaaay. Then something about the bars. Then it was on to the trampoline.

I've watched her on the trampoline before at gymnastics. They don't usually just jump around willy-nilly. There is usually a specific thing they are supposed to be doing. Like trying to do a split-type thing in the air (which, by the way, is hilarious, because apparently 4-year-olds universally cannot get their feet apart and back together in the air). So, I asked what kind of jumps they were doing on the trampoline. Big mistake. BIG mistake.

She planted both palms on the dashboard and jumped up, feet apart and back together. I think I had time to briefly be impressed that she got the feet apart and back together before she landed. But then my brain registered the thwack! She looked a little stunned while I asked - horrified from the sound - "Are YOU OK??" She nonchalantly nodded her head.

Then I saw it. A giant starburst in the windshield - about 14 inches in diameter across the biggest cracks. And I yelled, "Are you SURE you're ok?" She looked puzzled, nodded her head again and then followed my gaze. HERE came the tears. But they were the fake ones. And when I inquired, she admitted it was not because her head hurt, it was because she was upset that she "broked the car."

I'm still amazed that she is absolutely fine. There is no bump. There was no blood. She never even cried real tears. For that I am eternally grateful.

I can't be mad. There was nothing in my being that warned me to prevent her from doing that - even if I had had the time. She wasn't being reckless (or at least I didn't think so). She was obviously as upset that she "broked the car" as I was, so there was no punishment.

The only person to be mad at is myself. Some of the moms got a babysitter for some of the younger siblings for the meet two weeks ago. I had meant to talk to some of the moms at practice yesterday morning to see if they wanted me to try to find a sitter for this meet. But I didn't. I forgot. Or maybe I just thought that $20 was a lot to pay to keep from having to entertain my youngest child while we supported our eldest child with his swimming.

Of course, hindsight is always 20/20, but I suspect that when the Glass Doctor tells me how much it is going to cost to fix my Pane, I'm going to wish like crazy it had never crossed my mind that $20 was too much to spend on a sitter.