Cold Fries on the Driveway

The Saturday after I arrived in Oklahoma, the chillens and I decided it would be fun to have a picnic lunch in the park. But seeing as I had forgotten to defrost a loaf of bread for sandwiches, we opted to pick up lunch from McDonald's after much fervent pleading from the Lilly-popper.

I rationalized that it only made sense, due to the fact that we needed to return a Redbox as well. It was a win-win solution.

My sister had left a hand-drawn map of the neighborhood. Not to scale and roughly rudimentary, mind you, but still helpful for the most part. We made it to the golden arches after only a few detours due to road construction that she hadn't taken in to account which meant none of the streets were presently marked, making her artwork null and void.

After a trip through the drive through and sending the oldest back inside to retrieve our missing fries, we were on our way back through the winding streets to find the local park my sister had told me about. We had passed one on our scenic trip to Mickey D's, but it was sadly fenced off in a gated community, so we were forced to find their all too familiar neighborhood playground.

I tried to remember the instructions my sister had given. She had simply stated to follow the streets through the clustered cul-de-sacs until you came out on the other side, and there it would be.

Well, we tried that strategy to no avail. There seemed to be a dead end at every turn. Realizing my limited experience driving these foreign Oklahoma streets, I asked if anyone knew how to get there. "I do!", at least three children exclaimed.

I gave the oldest, Livie-Lou, a shot first. Her age and experience was obviously the logical choice. She carefully led me back out of the community, onto the highway and headed back towards where we had just come from. "I only know how to get there from my school!", she explained.

All the while, the delicious smell of fried goodness taunted us from the colorful paper sacks. Two-year-old Lancer-Prancer must have noticed, because he immediately started crying pathetically. I handed out a few french fries and a couple of McNuggets to the more ravenous ones in our troop.
Which meant everyone.

And so we took a right, then another right. And then.. a right?.. "Olivia!!" I exclaimed, "You know the only mathematical solution to these directions is to take us right back to where we started!??"

"I'm sorry!" she bemoaned, "This all looks familiar though.." I can't say it was a comforting thought.

All the while Cam-Cam wailed in the front seat. "HAM-BUR-GER!..."

 

Realizing following this navigator any further would prove futile, I bestowed the privilege on seven-year-old Buddy-boy. Who had been countering every direction his older sister had given. I now see why.

"Thanks a lot Olivia.." Lilly accused, "Now my tummy is grumbling!"

Unfortunately, Buddy-boy also failed to offer any useful pointers. Apparently their entire neighborhood looks very similar from one block to the next.

As our quick five minute trip slowly ticked over twenty, I couldn't help but laugh at the scenario. Here I was, following instructions from five starving children who all supposedly remembered 'exactly' how to get there. For all I knew, they could have been thinking of five different playgrounds. It was amusing. And saddening. An experience worth documenting.

I eventually came the the conclusion that visiting the park that day was not in our fates. So we traversed the same five-block radius that we had been circling right back to their house.

Where we sat on the driveway and ate our now cold lunch.

 

So I guess the moral of this story is, when it all comes down to it, family memories are more important than warm food and a play date in the park.

That, and when your sister gives you directions, opt for GPS instead.