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We just moved to Fort Lauderdale and for the past week, we have been unpacking. Unpacking is the absolutely worst part of moving. Because anyone can throw crap in a box and then pay (or beg) someone to move it.

Man carrying heavy moving boxes

But it takes a genius to figure out where the heck to put all the stuff in the new home.

3 year old Cash is not really the greatest helper either (no offense Cash if you suddenly figured out how to read which would really piss me off because he should definitely learn how to help me unpack before learning how to read).

He starts preschool soon. But not quite yet. Why don’t preschools ever start at the same time as regular schools?

But Cash had a big day at Trader Joe’s  recently. I was there with him and my 6 year old twins. Cash was attempting to grab fruit and toss it playfully when a Trader Joe’s employee intervened and asked him his name.

Now Cash has a very hard time saying “sh.”

So his name comes out “Ca.”

And everyone always responds quizzically, “Your name is Ca?” Because that would undoubtedly be an unusual name.

But I’ve been working very hard with him to learn “sh.” And today, when he said his name, the Trader Joe’s employee responded, “Your name is Cash? That’s a great name.”

I was so proud that he finally learned it and I actually helped him that I thought, “My gosh, why aren’t I homeschooling all my children?!”

Then 6 year old Chase ran his mini kid size Trader Joe’s cart into my ankle 6 times and I decided that the government funded education system is just fine by me.

Because I’ve been trying to unpack, I’ve needed some childcare help with Cash. One morning, I had a babysitter borrow my minivan and bring him to a science museum. When it was time for them to come home she texted me, “I can’t get the car to start.”

Say what?! But the maintenance light has only been on for 3 weeks!

She said the key wouldn’t turn in the ignition. I thought maybe the steering wheel was locked or the battery was dead or maybe I had mocked my minivan just one too many times and it had finally revolted in protest to my surly attitude.

I was about to take an Uber to meet her (like I’m some kind of auto mechanic who just needs to tweak a few things under the hood to get it going) when I got another text.

She was in the wrong car.

Yup. There was another gold minivan in front of where she parked ours. The doors were unlocked. And there was a carseat in the exact location. So she clipped my son in and attempted to start the car.

Obviously it didn’t start.

The sitter and Cash finally had to get out of the car because it’s Florida and it’s soooooooo hot. And that’s when she noticed the second gold minivan. And the fact that this look-a-like car was missing our flashy red Phillies plate.


So they got in the right car and came home.

I don’t know why Cash never mentioned he was in the wrong car.

But I’m sure my husband will be talking about how the Phillies saved the day for a very long time.

3 Responses to this is what happens when you try to unpack

  • Judy P says:

    At least someone didn’t come along and wonder why there was a kid already strapped in the car seat. LOL! I don’t envy the move. We just did that earlier this year. Five cats don’t help with the unpacking anymore than five kids do but at least they own less stuff (but those cat trees are bulky).

  • Lanie says:

    You could try not unpacking (at least till you run out of clothes or one of the kids is looking for a toy). Ok, you might need to unpack – baseball season is almost over maybe the Phillies can come over to help unpack. Imagine how long Rick could talk about that (if it happened in my imaginary world)!

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kelcey kintner