Firstly (not a word, I know, but it should be), let me explain that I find myself without a true weekend in Cairo and this is the most severe element of culture shock. Thursday is Friday, but Friday is Sunday rather than Saturday. Therefore, we have church Friday morning and thus cannot party Thursday night. Friday, being Sunday, also fails to provide a party night ('cause, you know, the sabbath and the keeping holy and all that). Then Saturday, which remains more or less Saturday, is a work/school night. And I keep thinking Tuesday is Wednesday because it is the third work day and thus I consistently forget about Tuesday evening tasks and/or events.
Secondly (also not a word, but also should be), we try to do fun family things on Saturday. We especially enjoy Wadi Degla, known to Maadi denizens as simply "the wadi," for hiking and cave exploring. We recently added baseball in the back yard of the church building, known to those in the know as "the villa," to our activity list.
So I set off yesterday (Saturday, which is still Saturday), minivan loaded with water bottles, whiffle balls, bat, dog, leash, remote control helicopter, etc. for various anticipated adventures including but not limited to the wadi, the villa, and the commissary (a consumer packaged goods brand manager bonanza).
We decided to try tee ball at the villa for our first stop. The five minute car ride took about fifteen minutes, however, as we frequently stopped for Henry's in-car time outs imposed for infractions including but not limited to hitting, biting, name calling, spitting, and whining. That sentence could be considered foreshadowing.
Once at the villa, the tee ball game was delayed by picking up Lucky's poo (we will not be welcomed back if we leave his poo to be gathered by shoes that may end up befouling the air during sacrament meeting). The game was further delayed by the flying of the helicopter. Said delays caused more of the aforementioned timeoutable Henry behaviors. So that was lovely. While dealing with such a meltdown, I heard yelling about the helicopter. I turned and saw it flying over the roof of the villa.
"Not over the roof," I yelled. Mistake. You see, my Madeline, controlling the chopper at that moment, is a freezer. Upon hearing my yell, she did not correct. No. She froze. She let go of the controls, which causes the helicopter to descend, which it did, right onto the inaccessible rooftop. There followed all manner of recrimination, brief climbing attempts, and senseless jumping.
During all of this, Lucky-who-was-off-his-leash (and we) discovered that he fits through the rails of the villa's front gate. And he made a run for it. We had never really tested whether he would reliably return to us and I wasn't really excited for this to be the moment. Madeline screamed for him.
"Maddie, go get the treats and run after him," I suggested. You see, my Madeline is a freezer. It required several moments of looking blankly from me to the vanishing dog for her to rally. But rally she did! Once she found the treats and ran into the road and discovered that she could not see Lucky, it was too late (for her, not the dog). The panic was too much and she succumbed.
Skipping much detail, I found Lucky a few moments later as he reliably came running to the distinctive sound of his treat bag opening. We were all feeling quite tense, however, and accusations (along with fists) were flying. I warned and then punished. No more tee ball at the villa. No wadi. And no home either (because Katie was getting a much deserved rest). So we sat in the car for 20 glorious minutes of weeping and wailing.
It was a great Saturday. Can't wait to do it again next week.
And guess what is sitting on the step outside the villa as I type this? A little baggie of Lucky poop.
