Today turned out to be rather interesting. We made it back to Wilburton a few hours ago after a longer-than-normal drive (longer, of course, because of the now numerous potty breaks needed for the pregnant lady). We detoured through Kansas City because Karli talked herself (and parents) into a quick trip to Nebraska Furniture Mart to look at a rocker for the Squatch Den (as I said before, we go shopping in spurts when we’re visiting civilization). She ended up finding the one she wanted, so we bought it and we were going to tie it to the roof of our car (a Pontiac Vibe) for the trip back to Oklahoma. Only, the box it came in was a little big (read: way too big) to go on top of our car and expect us to take fewer than five tanks of gas to get down here. Luckily, the in-laws drove their truck, so we threw it (and the box for the ottoman to go with it, of course) in with them, deciding that Karli’s mom would bring it down with her when she visited in a couple months.
As we drove away from the store, a thought crossed my mind. My father-in-law has the week off. They had the dog with them in their truck. They’d already driven to Kansas City. When we split off going different ways from Legends shopping center, I half expected them to call Karli and see if we wanted them to just bring that thing down to Wilburton now. Just caravan it. Actually, it was more than half expected. More like three-quarters expected.
We stopped off to buy a swing in Overland Park with Christmas money, a gift card, and a coupon, then squirted on over to grab some lunch. We hadn’t heard from them, so we just assumed they made it back home safely.
Fast forward past the drive and the pee breaks to about 7:00 this evening (I’d say I wish I could do that in real life but, unfortunately, I’ve seen Click). Karli texted her parents to tell them we made it back okay. A couple minutes later, she gets one back saying, “Delivery for Squatch. Open the door.”
Karli was floored. Me—not so surprised. I called it. Maybe not right on the money (they didn’t call), but I’ll take credit for it. So my father-in-law and I unloaded the chair and Karli invited them to stay the night. They said they had to get back. “This is the kind of stuff family legends are made of,” my father-in-law said. Family legends and daddy blogs.
So here it is, in its new home—the Chair of Legend. The cute-as-hell floppy bunny (which I wrote about yesterday, but didn’t have a picture of) is sitting in it, with a receiving blanket one of Karli’s friends gave us that she and her mom made. Forgive the terribleness of the picture. It’s been a long day.