Yes, it’s true. Sometimes your milkshake simply won’t be all the chilled, dairy bliss you had hoped it would be. (I’m talking about an actual milkshake, by the way.) Instead, when you are already pressed for time, rushing here and there, attempting to help three kids with homework, pick up your firefighter’s Class-A’s from the drycleaner, and take four bridesmaid’s dresses to be altered, your child’s milkshake will overturn in the backseat. Of course, it has to happen on that part-time single parent day known as shift day. Milkshakes are not usually allowed in our truck and this is why. It, of course, had to land on homework. Then it continued to ooze over half a seat, inside seatbelt buckles, and under the seat on the carpeted floor, so it will turn sour in the Southern heat and make the entire truck smell putrid for the next two years. Sweet! Even though I wanted to blow my top at first, I didn’t; no time. Instead, I jumped into action, kept it away from all formal attire and the school’s newly-issued iPad. Homework was wiped to a less-messy state and allowed to air dry to achieve the perfect crisp, chocolaty coating. We wiped up what we could off the seat and fanned out a nice array of napkins before continuing our hectic Wednesday. The saving grace was the phone call in the middle of it all. I was not on speaking terms with anything, so my daughter answered. What did she ask? Daddy wanted to know if I had plans for dinner? Um…sure. If the firefighters want me to bring dinner they can all gather around the truck, stick their lips to the backseat and suck out chocolate milkshake to get their evening’s sustenance. Oh, wait. She said he had dinner for us at the station. Yay! Thank goodness for small blessings, good timing, and a husband who claims to not read my mind, but sometimes makes me wonder.