Today was the 10th anniversary of Anno 1589, Judy's gallery that's full of valuable paintings and things that are made of glass. It's a great shop for anyone in their double-digits, which leaves another seven years and two months before I consider letting the collective Zoo crew inside.
After a brief trip to breakable city to say hi, I chaperoned the kids to parts of the city that they could break.
It only took an hour of trying to kill themselves and others at the playground before the boys asked if we could go buy new 'Wheelies' because, according to David, 'I are so good being'.
'But what is a Wheelie?', the kidless readers ask.
Well, like the name implies, it's a wheel. That's pretty much it. You can roll them. And you can...uh,...um,....did I mention that you can roll them?
Okay, Wheelies are dumber than My Pet Rock, but at least they are cheap and they keep the yappity ones quiet. Hmm, maybe I should pick up one for Angie?
We picked up Barb along the way and headed off to the store that sold bags of broken car parts to morons with cash. The boys thought it was cool that the store had a revolving door. Of course, they also thought it was cool that we were buying a wheel.
On the way in, I carried Tommy. On the way out, I did not. Mea culpa.
What happened was Peter went first and like a normal human, he continued to walk outside when it was time to 'get off'. David went through next and like a normal David, he did not get off and instead kept going around in circles laughing.
I was holding Tommy's hand when it was our turn to 'get on'. At that point he saw David jackassing his way back into the store and decided to run in the opposite direction of the revolving door. If you ever wondered what it sounds like when someone's foot jams a revolving door to a grinding halt, it goes something like this:
'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!'
So, just to recap - I'm stuck inside with Toe-jam Tommy trying to unwedge his foot. David has proudly made his way back into the store and is gleefully announcing to the forming crowd 'That is my BROTHER!'. Peter is stuck outside bawling his eyes out and screaming 'I'm sorry!' and will most likely be traumatized for life.
In the end, Barb was the one that came crashing to the rescue with a full-on shoulder attack against the glass wall that was pinning my third-born down. As Superchick pried back the wall of pain, I snatched up flat-foot and raced outside. Tommy and Peter were still screaming their heads off, but at least David had the sense to rejoin us on the sunny side of the death machine.
In America, I would have sued the shit out of the store for not hanging up a sign that clearly warned stupid dads against wedging their kid's foot under a revolving door. I'd be ree-yatch.
We were in Germany, though, Land of Customer Friendliness. Needless to say, we fled the scene before one of the helpful store workers could present us with a bill for a broken door. Dankeschön.
As we made it back to the shop, Barb asked if we wanted to come in to say goodbye. My response was a mix between an answer, a curse and a laugh. Barb gave me an understanding nod and went inside to tell Grams and Opa that they would have to come outside to say goodbye to Toe-jam Tommy and the Wheelie boys.
