Today, of course, I celebrated Labor Day by not laboring.
This is very similar to being resentful on Thanksgiving or forgetting stuff on Memorial Day. I excel at this type of celebration.
In the morning, Hank and I took Daisy miniature golfing. Golfing is near the top of the enormously long list of sports that I suck at and do not enjoy, but miniature golf can be enjoyable about once every decade. (I feel the same way about Kentucky Fried Chicken, except that I don't suck at eating it).
Anyway, I'm pleased to report that despite (or perhaps because of) giving Daisy bad advice about golfing form at every opportunity , I won the First Ever Our House Golf Invitational. Daisy seemed to enjoy herself, but it still didn't measure up to the 10 minutes of Skeeball we let her play in the arcade.
Meanwhile, I ducked over to the batting cages. Although baseball is second on the enormously long list of sports that I suck at and do not enjoy, batting cages are a hoot. This was my second time trying one and boyhowdy do I ever stink at hitting a ball with a bat. Despite having the pitching machine on nearly its slowest speed, I still completely missed about half of the 100 pitches I swung at. I estimate that had these been real pitches in a real baseball game, I would have earned myself a tidy .03 batting average. If I can improve one measly order of magnitude, I'll be ready for Little League.
Afterwards the family went over to a nearby chain restaurant that specializes in Daisy's favorite food: pasta. As always, due to Daisy's allergies, we ordered her food very carefully, but we'd been to this restaurant before, and the waitress was attentive, so we felt comfortable that they weren't going to accidentally kill our daughter.
We ate a good meal, topped off with some excellent and refreshing lemon-flavored soda. Just the thing after golfing in the sun.
As we walked to our car after lunch, Daisy began to clutch her stomach. She was reluctant to admit that anything was wrong, but after a minute she cried out, "I DON'T WANT TO THROW UP!"
This is alarming behavior. Typically Daisy only throws up either when car sick, or when she's eaten something that she's very allergic to, like nuts or eggs. We carry an epinephrine pen with us at all times for those situations.
While Daisy moaned and yelled, Hank suggested that maybe some of the food had been cooked in a nut oil. She reminded me where the epinephrine pen was before bolting back to the restaurant to quiz the cook about the possible allergens that might have possibly gotten into Daisy's food. She came back a couple minutes later fairly certain that Daisy's food was allergen-free.
We comforted Daisy helplessly for a few moments before Hank offered, "Oh, maybe it was that soda. You don't usually have soda. Maybe you just need to burp?"
Ding ding ding!
Daisy's soothing burp came a few minutes later and we all breathed a sign of relief. Hank should be a doctor.
All in all, not a bad day.