Coke Bomb

Well, it was a good run.  I thought to myself the other day that it had been quite a while since I last publicly humiliated myself.  Which means of course that I was due for some red-faced trauma. 

So tonight I picked up Brig from work and then we ran to the grocery store to pick up a few things.  I have been feeling under the weather with a cold and have spent the day trying to keep the laundry going while also trying to keep my teething baby happy who also caught the dreaded cold.  I wasn't cooking.  So we picked up a few things for dinner. 

I've been trying to cut Coke out of my life once and for all.  I know, I know, don't laugh.  I know I've tried this several times.  I read that you have to cut back your intake so you don't get agonizing headaches from withdrawal.  Long story short, I had already had my allotted Coke intake for the day, but was feeling sorry for myself because I had had such a rough day so I thought...I'll just have a glass tonight to unwind, reward myself for dealing with...daily life?  I don't know.  I have a problem with Coke, alright? 

So I plucked a Coca-Cola from off the drink aisle and handed it to Brielle to keep her occupied.  Brig gives me the look.  The one that says,  Is that really necessary?  I smile smugly in reply.  I just love when you can have a complete conversation with someone without saying a word. 

Now we are in the cereal aisle and we each pick out a box of cereal.  Ava chooses Lucky Charms and promises me she won't just eat the marshmallows.  Brig picks out Shredded Wheat.  And I, who usually doesn't eat cereal get a craving for Grape-Nuts.  So I set the box in the cart.  It is then that it happens. 

Brielle in her eagerness to intercept the box of cereal drops the Coke bottle.  It hits the ground and immediately begins spraying all over.  Brig and Ava jump back like two cowards.  I rush forward into the fray, carbonated shrapnel pummeling me.  I pick up the bottle and try to twist the lid back on and instead of it stopping it starts spraying more.  My husband helpfully yells, "Stop untwisting the top!"  For the record I do believe I was doing righty-tighty but he claims I was pulling a lefty-loosey.  I guess we'll never know.  I get the situation under control and look down to see that my white shirt is soaked with Coca-Cola.  I giggle as I always do when I'm slightly mortified. 

Ava and Brig must be shell-shocked because they are standing there just staring at me like I'm some stranger.  I soggily pad over to the self-checkouts to inform the attendant there that there has been a spill on aisle 3.  I assume she will use the overhead intercom to say, "Cleanup on aisle three!"  But I am mistaken.  She instead hands me exactly two sheets of paper towel.  What?  Can't spare a square, lady?  I take it back to aisle three where Ava and Brig have made themselves scarce.  A nice man says, "Oh I was just going to tell someone about this mess.  I can tell by your shirt that you must have had something to do with it," He said glancing down at my see-through white shirt.  I flush red and try to position my arms over my chest acting as if I am just scratching my neck in a very awkward way.  "I think you're going to need more than two paper towels, though." He continues.  And then like a knight in shining armor he flags down a passing bag boy and handles the situation. 

I finally meet back up with Brig and Ava.  Ava says to me, "You must be pretty embarrassed, Mom."  The little turd.  I cajole them for leaving a wounded soldier in the throws of battle.  Brig smiles sheepishly and says, "Well that's what you get for buying a Coke when you're trying to quit."  If he wasn't so cute I'd wring his neck right then and there but my arms are too sticky and my blouse is ruined and I just want to go home to lick my wounds.  My Coke-flavored wounds.