The Great Gas Mishap Story

Today we had another embarrassing misadventure, this time at the gas station. Thankfully no one got hurt. Interested yet?

While Max was doing his therapy and Luke had already finished his, I decided to fill up at the gas station. Luke asked if he could "help" pump gas, I made the mistake of saying yes. Now before you jump down my throat, I did not actually let him pump the gas, I just let him stand beside me as I was pumping the gas. My mistake was saying "yes" that he could help.

I had put the pump into the gas tank and locked it in the "on" position, but kept my hand on the pump. I had turned for one second to keep an eye on the price when Luke decided to take the pump out of the car--with the gas pump still latched in the "on" position. So when he took the gas pump out, it was still pumping gas--all over us. It got Luke more than me, as he still had the handle in his hands. I was trying to wrestle it away from him yelling, "Let it go!" but I think he was so surprised by all the gas pouring all over us that he was frozen.

I finally did get the pump away from him--it was only about 3-4 seconds of extra gas, but imagine somebody pouring gas on you for 3-4 seconds. Once I finally got it shut off, there was a moment or two of stunned silence as we surveyed the mess of gas all over us and the ground. Then Luke began to plead, "I'm sorry Mama!" Well I couldn't get mad at him for something that was my own fault. I was mostly just worried about the gas being all over him though. For me, it got me just on the shoes (soaked them good) but Luke was literally covered from the chest all the way down. Thankfully it didn't get him in the face, eyes or mouth. I'm convinced his guardian angel put some sort of shield over his face at the time. Anyway, I ordered Luke to get in the car and immediately strip down. For once, he didn't argue.

I had a hard time just getting him in the car--our shoes were so soaked with gas that we slipping all over. I saw him trying to climb into the van but his shoes kept slipping, so then he would try to crawl in, but he would slip again because his pants were so soaked. Yeah. That's how gas-soaked he was.

I paid for the gas (and the wasted gas that should have been in my gas tank), and slipped all the way back to the car. I saw that Luke had stripped down to his underwear like he was told--but actually he had taken his underwear off too, so he was actually completely naked. I didn't know what else to do but go pick up Max as planned. The tires had also been splashed with gas and so they were slippery too.

When I got to The Therapy Place, I walked in and stood in the waiting room (not daring to sit down in case I got the chairs smelly) and as I was relaying everything that happened to Dennis on the phone, I decided maybe I should wait outside since I could smell the gas from my shoes. As I was outside, the maintenance guy came out and said, "I think your car is leaking gas--we can smell it all the way inside."
"No, that's just me" I smiled at him, then to Dennis on the phone I said, "I told you it was bad!"

What the real problem was, (other than being smothered by gas fumes and layered in gas) was that I was supposed to drop off the boys at school right after therapy--and Luke was wearing his school uniform which was now ruined. They arrive pretty late as it is, and I knew I couldn't send Luke to school without first giving him a bath. The other problem was that he only had one pair of uniform pants. That's another long story by itself which I won't get into right now. But ironically, my plan after dropping off the boys at school was to go to Wal-Mart to pick up more navy blue pants for them. If only I had done it sooner! So basically, I had nothing to send Luke to school in and we didn't want him to miss school so early into the year based on a uniform crisis. But what can you do, right?

Anyway, as we were hashing what-do-we-do-now on the phone, I decided I better let the receptionist know that I would be waiting for Max outside since I was stinking up their waiting room. As I was inquiring them about what time he would be out, the receptionist sniffed the air and asked me, "Do you smell gas?" By the way, I should also add that the receptionist has one of those glass windows separating her from the customers who are too loud and gas laden. And yes, she could smell me even through her glass and the window was closed.

I explained the situation to her, and I admit, it probably sounds worse than what it really was. The words "Five year old is covered in gasoline" doesn't sit right with people. But I've been surprised over people's panicked reaction as they ask if he's okay. I always feel like I have to add that yes, he has some gasoline on him but that, no, he is not on fire.

After assuring her that he was fine, I told her that we would be waiting in the car and if Max's therapist could walk him out, that would be great. I had  my door open with the windows open and the heat on high for Luke, and of course, it had to start raining. Of course.

Max's therapist walked Max outside and Max got into the car, excited over his glurch  that they made in therapy, so he didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. Like the fact that all the windows were open even though it was pouring rain outside. Or that the car had a nauseating smell of gas about it. Or that Luke was naked.

And even though I had apologized to Max for the gassy smell and Luke had explained in his own child-like way of what happened (with lots of arm gestures to create drama for the gas pouring all over him with lots of sound effects), Max still didn't seem to notice that Luke was naked. In fact, it wasn't until we were on the freeway home that Max finally asked, "Why is Luke naked?"

I drove carefully home,  paranoid of anything flammable around us, and I did a wild lurch as some guy threw his cigarette out the window--aimed at us of course. All I could think of were those scary stories that Andy would tell us of people who would spontaneously combust from inhaling too much gasoline. I had said a prayer when I started the car for the first time at the gas station that we wouldn't blow up, and I continued to pray all the way home.

We got home safely, wrapped Luke in a towel and brought him inside where he happily played in the tub. Happily, because we decided that with no school uniform, that he couldn't go to school since it's strictly against the rules to arrive with no uniform--even in weird and strange situations as this. I had to scrub, scrub, scrub to get that gas smell out of his skin, and he still has a faint whiff of it.

Lesson learned. I will never, never, never, NEVER! let any child near a gas pump again. Especially one who is as curious as Luke.