The Medieval Madness Dash

Today, I took a detour on the way back from campus because of a call from my frantic sister-in-law. She had been invited to a medieval-themed party and needed to do some last-minute dress shopping. She’d been putting it off for quite a while, but the party was today at 4:00 PM. 

So! We had about an hour or two to pick out a dress and get her ready. As soon as I knocked on her door, it swung open immediately, as if she’d been waiting on the other side. BAM! 

And with a whoosh, I was being dragged toward the car, my sister-in-law acting like an Energizer Bunny. 

I don’t have a license to drive, but I’m pretty sure she broke some major traffic laws. Driving in the opposite lane is wrong, right? At least there was no traffic. My poor brother is going to be saddled with traffic tickets. 

In we went! The door opened, and cool air hit my face. Gliding across the polished floor, I followed my sister to the store on the ground floor. They didn’t have much variety, so it was a quick buy—though it did need some alterations. Convincing my sister-in-law to get her makeup and hair done while we waited for the alterations was no easy task, but she relented. 

So there I was, sipping on my smoothie while she got her makeup done. With half an hour to spare, she got ready in the same makeup room. Soon, we were rushing back to the car. 

After dropping me off at her place with my nephews and nieces, she drove away. Ushering them inside, I prepared a simple linner (lunch-dinner) for them and my brother—who, I’m pretty sure, was on his way back by then. 

Linner and homework done, the siblings settled in to watch the animated Disney movie Encanto. I left them under the watchful eyes of my brother, who was now enjoying his meal. 

Taking out the bag of pet food, I filled the bowls. This house is turning into a farmhouse—what with the duck, the hen, the cat, and the dog. All they’re missing is a cow. I can totally picture them wearing straw hats and singing Old MacDonald Had a Farm. 

Pet duties done, I returned to the living room to watch the movie with everyone. Once it ended, I told my brother he was the one giving the pets a bath while I helped the kids. 

The kids were now in their jammies, waiting for their father to join them for dinner. I spotted the hen, cat, and duck—but no dog. He must still be getting bathed. 

Time flew, but my brother didn’t come out. Worried, I went to check. Pushing the door open, I found him chasing the dog, trying to catch it. Sighing, I picked up the furball at my feet and handed him over. 

Finally! Now maybe he’d hurry up—the pizza was getting cold. But the dog was mischievous, and my brother ended up in the tub with him, soaked to the bone. Looking at the scene, I was confused—who was giving whom the bath? Leaving them to their antics, I walked out. 

A few minutes later, my brother emerged in a bathrobe, the dog wrapped in a towel. He seemed to have taken a shower too. Muttering "Worth it!", he trudged out. As if listening to its owner, the dog winked—literally winked—as if to say, "Yeah, totally worth it." 

Snapping a few sneaky pics, I tucked my phone away. Soon, they were walking me back home. The moment I arrived, I showed Mom the hilarious photo and regaled her with the tale of the bath-hating dog.