As Emily would say, “Let me tell you about the rollaway cart!”

 

Recently my daughter and family moved into their first house.  Grandpa and I came to town for a few days to keep the girls.  We chose a nearby hotel with a suite so we could have kitchen, living room and a bedroom to put Molly down in a quiet place.  It also served a hot breakfast & dinner, which was perfect for us with a 4 yr old and 1 yr old.

 

We checked in to unload our baggage before picking up the girls. The trunk of the car quickly refilled with suitcases, Pack-n-Play, favorite dolls and stuffed animals, diaper bag, and blankets.  At the hotel, Emily became our official elevator button pusher:  3 for our room, 1 for mealtime and to get to the pool.  There were lots of mini-adventures during the first 24 hours – Molly’s haz-mat diaper, going to breakfast with wrong way Mouse and wrong way Molly, and Grandpa taking Emily swimming – before he had to leave to get back to work.  Dropping him off at the airport, I noticed both the girls were napping.  It would be my last moments of quiet since I’d be keeping them by myself on our last hotel night.  Back at the room we had a fun bubble-splash bath and we all slept soundly.

 

My plan was to check out the next morning and take them to their new home.  That morning Emily & I read her favorite Bible stories, built pillow houses for Mouse and Rudolph while Molly busied herself trying to open every door, cabinet, and window.  While they played I began to corral our things for packing onto a bellman’s cart.  I loaded and re-loaded until everything was arranged and all I had left was the Pack-n-Play.  Emily was busy helping “ride herd” on this 13 month toddler whom Grandpa had dubbed Wrong Way Molly.  Every time you put her down she toddled off in exactly the wrong direction!  Wrong Way Molly also has a thing for hiding her bottle – she has a knack for throwing it into drawers, corners, couch cushions – anywhere it will be difficult to find.

 

The girls followed me into the bedroom where I proceeded to collapse the Pack-n-Play.  Mine at home is easy to put up and take down. This one was a bear.  I re-read the directions and tried again, succeeding only in getting it halfway folded.  It was getting close to check out time, the girls were getting hungry and I was getting frustrated.  After a few minutes, Emily piped up:  “Grandma, do you know what my mommy does when she’s frust-erated?”  “No, Emily, tell me.”  “She just tries and tries 100 times until she gets it.  That’s what you have to do.”

 

She was right of course.  I re-read the directions, took a deep breath and tried again, this time getting it mostly folded.  It wasn’t pretty but it would do.  The cart was loaded, Molly had a full bottle, a fresh diaper, it was time to go.

 

The next challenge was how to safely maneuver the loaded cart and Wrong Way Molly out the door, into the elevator, down to the ground floor and out to the car with only a 4 yr old to help me.  But then, Emily is no average 4 yr old – she stepped up into a leadership role.  While she held the heavy room door open, I held Molly firmly on one hip and with my free hand guided the cart out into the hallway, pocketing a room key at the last minute.  Emily was our line leader, steering the cart and singing the whole way as I pushed from behind.  She pushed the elevator button, and when it opened I told her to wait in the hallway until I could position the cart inside the cab.  As I opened my mouth to tell her to step in the doors closed, leaving Emily alone the hallway.  For three long seconds I frantically pressed the “Open” button.  A near-panicked Emily got right in and I clasped her hand tightly as we rode down.

 

Feeling relieved, we started down the hallway.  Molly began to fuss and I reached for her bottle.  It was not in her hand or the diaper bag.  I realized she must have dropped it on the way or thrown it somewhere in the room.

 

Talk about a dilemma.  I wasn’t about to make that trip up to the room again with the kids and cart, and I certainly wasn’t about to leave Emily with our cart to go look for the bottle.  With a quick “Watch over our things, Lord!” prayer I took Emily’s hand, adjusted Molly on my hip and said, “Let’s go find that bottle.”  Emily was concerned about our things and what if they were gone when we got back.  So was I, but we agreed God would have to take care of it.

 

Back down the hall, back to the elevator, back to Room 327.  Room key in my pocket!   I found the bottle in a corner of the closet where Molly had tossed it during my wrestling match with the Pack ‘n Play.  Molly gripped her bottle and we set off.

 

The bellman cart was unmolested, right where we had left it.  We pushed it through the exit and stepped out into the sunlight.  It was noon in June in Texas and I was sweating already.  I parked Emily and the cart in some shade on the sidewalk where I could see them.  Holding a brightly colored gift bag for her mom, Emily promised to stay with the cart. I took Molly to the car to move it close to the cart.

 

Unlocking the car, I secured Molly in her car seat and started the AC.  Shifting into reverse, I turned to look over my shoulder before backing out.  And did a double take as I saw our cart speeding across the parking lot.  Where was Emily?  What if she ran after it?

 

I rammed the car into park, flung open the door and heard, “Grandma, Grandma!”  I sent up another arrow-prayer as I left Molly and ran to Emily, standing exactly where I’d left her, gift bag in hand, a bewildered expression on her face.

 

“Emily, are you OK?  Good girl for not running into the parking lot! What happened?”  “Well, I was going to hang the bag on the cart but I never got to because the cart just rolled away!”  Looking in the direction she was pointing, I saw the Rollaway Cart.

 

Definitely ours: suitcases, pillows, Cinderella sleeping bag, groceries spilling over, Bear & Mouse hanging on for dear life, diaper bag swinging, Grandpa’s wet swim trunks spread over the top bars to dry.  Amazingly intact but a total Beverly Hillbillies look.

 

Emily was waiting to see how I would react.  All of a sudden, I was undone.  Wrestling with the Pack-n-Play, the scare of Emily stranded alone on the third floor, anxiety over the unattended cart, the frantic search for Molly’s bottle, and now our Rollaway Cart parked at a curb displaying the guts of our hotel stay for all to see.

 

I started to laugh.  Big belly laughs, hysterical doubled-over laughter that caused laugh-tears to roll down my cheeks.  Emily started to laugh too.

 

So there we were.  Laughing uncontrollably in a Hyatt hotel parking lot at high noon on a hot summer day with my baby granddaughter unattended in the car halfway backed out of the parking space, door wide open, AC running full blast, and our packed-to-the-gills cart illegally parked at the far end of the lot.

 

It seemed like forever before I could start to stop laughing.  Telling Emily to go check on Molly I retrieved the cart and hauled it back to where Emily faithfully waited.  Molly was drinking her milk, happily unaware.  As I buckled Emily into her booster seat we looked at each other and started laughing.

 

The rest of the day it went like that.  We would exchange a glance and start laughing all over again.  At bedtime Emily said, “I’m still laughing about the Rollaway Cart!”  Weeks later we had lunch at my work, Emily saying to each co-worker who entered the breakroom, “Let me tell you about the Rollaway Cart…”

 

Emily is now in college.  She recalls no fear or stress from that day. She just remembers the Rollaway Cart, wrong way Molly, and laughing with Grandma.