You know what I love? When my cell phone rings its extra-special and very unique ring tone that means exactly one thing:

Daycare needs something.

The ring tone needs to be the theme from Jaws because really, there is never a time that daycare calls just to say, "Hi! You know, your kid is absolutely splendid. We just adore her. In fact, we'll watch her for free for now on! I take that back, we should PAY YOU for being so kind as to allow us to be a part of her life. Is $800 per week enough?"

If only.

No, this morning's call went more like this, "Hi! Um, Alexis has some sort of rash on her back and arms and she's digging at her head." So I stopped whatever almost productive thing I was working on and made my way over to pick her up. Of course, by the time that I got there (Why does it take 10 minutes to drive the three miles to daycare but 40 minutes to walk the 20 yards from my office to the car? Am I really that popular? Weird.) the rash was gone. I could see where it had been, but any signs that the kid might be even slightly miserable had vanished in a dirty diaper-scented cloud of smoke (Seriously. Have you ever walked into a daycare center during diaper changing time? Oh.My.Hell.).

Despite the fact that the Toddler was obviously feeling as spunky as ever, I figured it was worth taking her home just to keep an eye on her (the fact that it was sunny and warm may have had a little to do with that decision). First, though, I thought it would make sense to run to the grocery store and pick up some anti-itch stuff, just in case the Toddler went all crazy and started acting like an itchy-mama again.

I made it about fifteen feet from the daycare parking lot before Alexis fell asleep, leaving me with the World's Most Critical Decision to work through. Do I just go to the store, potentially risking an awake and crabby kid who may not go back to napping? Or do I piss away $20 in gas while driving around for an hour so she can finish out that nap?

I ain't no fool. I pissed away $20. And while I was blowing three days worth of gas money, I saw this:

Say, huh? Hummana hummana, huh? Wha? I tried to ask Alexis if she understood what exactly was in that Wal-Mart parking lot, but she was too busy drooling like a rock star.

So, I ask of you, oh wise reader, what the frickety frack is this all about? I mean, I know Jesus was a carpenter, but I don't think he installed ceramic tile. Call me crazy, but I'm WAY conflumbubulatonfused about this thing.