Since I’m about to abandon my four-year-old with her grandparents for a week, I couldn’t say no when she asked me for a play tent in Walmart today.
After an afternoon of shopping while battling the Alabama heat (95 degrees) and humidity (573 percent), I returned home with this thing.
My mom and the other kids were at the pool. My dad took one look at this tent-in-a-box, and “needed to go get something from the store” (hope it was Valium).
So, that left me alone with my over-eager preschooler who wanted her tent assembled YESTERDAY.
The nice way of saying this is: Wow! What a terrific learning experience! Like, I learned why I never went to medical school, or engineering school, or anything else requiring math and brains.
I was humbled by this tent.
Despite its size, don’t assemble this thing on the porch or in the yard. Nope, do it where there’s air conditioning. This bastard was made for living rooms. In order to put it together, you need to get inside of it, and this tent is composed of some sort of NASA bullshit that exponentially multiplies heat. This is a test to see if the material works. They’re planning to use it for astronaut suits once we’re capable of sending our guys to Pluto.
Also, is anyone here fond of the guy who invented those tent poles that are basically composed of a bunch of sticks with stretchy string run through them? No? You hate him, too? Fantastic. Let’s kill him.
(I’m picturing a mob, like on Shrek, hunting down this motherfucker, except instead of torches we’re carrying our stretchy string-sticks, which we’ve lit on fire)
At some point my dad returned from his “shopping trip” (FUN FACT: He didn’t have a single bag in his hands. Suspicious, yes?)
“Oh, you bought a tent”, he observed, even though I know he already “observed” this before he left for his “shopping trip”, because I definitely saw Kaeleigh show it to him.
“NO!” I yelled, poking my red, sweaty face out the window of the tent. “IT’S A FUCKING EASY-BAKE OVEN”
I meant that literally. I was medium-rare at this point, and getting closer to medium. But he chuckled at me and went inside the house AS IF I WASN’T GODDAMN DYING.
The tent collapsed. Kaeleigh laughed. I flailed, scrambled, and ripped my way out just before succumbing to heatstroke and suffocation.
“I QUIT!” I screamed. “I’M NOT A FUCKING ENGINEER!” I propped the offending China-made monstrosity and all of its bendy string-sticks against the wall of the porch, and snapped a picture for a fun “Nailed It” meme.
A pair of sweet blue eyes smiled at me. “You’re doing a great job, Mommy! WOW! I love my tent!” She pitifully crawled into it and attempted to play inside my disaster.
Sigh. “Get out… I’m gonna finish it; you know I am,” I told her.
And I did. I finished it, and it looks just like the picture on the box, except it’s covered in chalk dust. Don’t ask.
Kaeleigh is enjoying her humid “playtime fun”… And I’m enjoying a well-deserved beer.
But seriously. That string-stick guy? To hell with that guy.
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