Whilst trying to live within our budgetary means this week, David instructed me to only fill my gas tank halfway. Which is about $20 or so. I dutifully obliged on Sunday evening. By Wednesday evening, however, my gas light came on as the needle inched ever more closely to "E".
Reese and I were heading home from church so we stopped for gas. She clamored to find her seatbelt buckle so she could get out of the van, but I stopped her before she was successful. I just wanted to pop out, fill the tank, and head home. Notice the phrase running through my head was fill the tank...
I stuck the nozzle in and tried to entertain Reese through the window by making funny faces and whatnot. After a few seconds I plopped back down in the driver's seat to wait. Reese began telling me all about choir that night and I became immersed in her stories. (That's easier to do when the other two aren't with us screaming for attention.)
As I sat listening to Reese and the rhythmic flowing of gas into the van, it hit me. David said to only fill up halfway! I leaped from my seat and saw the meter was already up to $25. I grabbed the nozzle and started to yank it out of my gas tank. Surprisingly, it resisted a little so I tugged harder.
I am sure you all would have paid a pretty penny to have been standing there witnessing the events that followed. In my haste to pull it out and stop the meter, I had neglected to release the nozzle from the automatic setting. All of a sudden the gas hose became a giant anaconda, flapping around uncontrollably in my hands, as I desperately tried to wrestle it to a standstill.
I probably could have powered a small country with the amount of gas that poured out that hose. It sprayed the entire side of the van, my jeans, my flip flops, my feet, EVERYTHING! And it took a few seconds of this before I could finally get it under control to flip the switch up.
After my body geared down from panic mode, I quickly stuck the hose back in the pump, closed the gas cap and climbed back in the van all too ready to forget that experience.
"WOW Mommy! Where did all that gas come from?" my little audience of one asked from the back seat.
I made a feeble attempt to give her an explanation as we headed home. We began talking about what we had to get done before bed. I told Reese she needed to take a shower which of course began the discussion of why she needed a shower, why does anyone need to shower, etc.
We went back and forth about it and I finally ended with, "...so that's why it's a good reason to take a bath or shower everyday to keep our bodies clean."
To which she innocently added, "Except when we smell like gas and then we might need to take more showers, huh Mommy?".