Let’s start with the blueberries. Lots of blueberries. Unsupervised blueberries, consumed in unknown quantities by a 14-month old at breakfast.

Then comes the mid-day airport run to pick up mom.

Yes, “run.” In every way.

Arrivals level, waiting. The smell arrives before mom does. The blueberries have returned, still mostly whole, spilling out of a diaper, with brown sauce, into the deepest recesses of the car seat. Through the seat pad. Into the belt latch. Practically burning through the plastic like Alien acid-blood.

No amount of diaper wipes in the world can make this right. Even if I’d had them in the car.

Oh, hi, mom. Welcome home. It’s like Laguardia in here.