Once Upon a Time

Feminism has fairly well squashed out the enjoyment most of us have with the romantic idea of the knight in shining armor. We all know that the princess could have gotten herself out of the jam, if only she weren't being thwarted by malicious stereotypes of unattractive women. But feminism and fairy tales is a complicated literary/socialogical debate. And really, my brain hasn't been used for any academic purpose lately, so I will just say that sometimes a knight in shining armor is just what we all need.
Yesterday, E's sleepover friend left before lunch. I had a bunch of errands to do, and dragged my children, Whiney and Cry-ey (distant cousins of Happy and Doc), along with me. After indulging every childhood desire for these kids, you'd think a few short stops would be a fair compromise. But, instead, we pull into a parking space, and the moaning starts: "Here? We have to go here?" "Yes. It is a short stop, we will be in and out if you just cooperate." "But it's soooo BORING." "Well, it's not my idea of a three ring circus, either. But some things just need to be done." We had to get the pool water analyzed because after a jillion kids in it and a bunch of sunblock, the water was cloudy. Apparently, a $16 bottle of blue crap will clean that right up. Then, we had to return a movie--a prolonged argument over who would get out of the car and put the movie in the return slot. (I was in no rush to go--it was 100 degrees outside. Apparently, the excitement of the return slot trumps sauna weather.)
We had to stop in the grocery store for dinner ingredients, which of course translates into a whine/cryfest over how disgusting and poisonous my dinner is going to be. (Dinner was NOT disgusting OR poisonous. I shelled and de-veined local shrimp, marinated them in chili powder and buttermilk, tossed them in a light mixture of panko breading, flour and cornstarch, and flash fried them. I served them in tortillas with mango salsa, napa cabbage and guacamole. Whine and Cry had theirs plain with ketchup, natch.) Then, I took them to Moe's for lunch, where Whiney and Cry-ey picked at their food in a feeble attempt to "earn" their desserts. (They did not earn dessert) So, after running these errands, I was frustrated, hot, irritated and very unhappy. My starring role in an alter-fairy tale where the dwarfs were evil was wearing thin. Where the hell was my knight?
Then, the phone rings. I am at the neverending stoplight. It is under a spell from the evil stepsister of the Department of Transportation. The light easily lasts four minutes. Whiney and Cry-ey argue about how many poisonous shrimp they are going to have to eat to get dessert for dinner. The generic AT&T cell phone ring is like the sweet twitter of Disney's birds flitting through the car. I answer. It is my fairy godmother: MT. She has endured a series of errands much like mine with her own dwarfs: Smarty, Sweetie, and Curly. MT is at the end of her rope. We agree to meet at the pool. To drown the dwarfs? Or to play, I guess.
MT arrives. Dwarfs get in the pool. I make magic potion of rum and lime juice. Dwarfs transform into playmates. MT and I drift in the pool and chat. The golden rays slant down from above with the angelic chorus of "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH."
My knight in shining armor has arrived. Feminists of the world rejoice: the knight is actually a woman. In swimwear. Rescue is actually drunken solidarity.