Funny (long) story about this mini bromeliad... I got it from Ikea. In Memphis. That's three hours away. Six hours of driving. Actually, it was closer to seven and a half because unlike where we came from in California, when the speed limit in Tennessee is 65mph, people drive 45-55mph. Back home you'd be honked off the road for that while drivers are blowing past you at 80mph (at least 80, probably more). So anyway, I'm a super spontaneous person who has zero patience, so when I saw Ikea's bamboo plant stands, tables, and a plant ladder in one of my mom groups, I had to have them immediately. Or the next day at the very latest.
Now we've only lived in Nashville for a few months (it was about one month at that point) and I was shocked to learn that the closest one was three hours away. Where we lived in California, I had about five Ikea stores within 50 miles and one was only 15 minutes away, so when I discovered Nashville didn't have one I was pretty disappointed. (They recently announced plans to build here, but it won't be open for a few years)
My husband was out of town on a business trip that week, so I didn't have to explain my hair brained scheme. I may or may not have planned it that way. But I should have known that he was the least of my worries. I mean, he did marry me knowing all about these adventures and tendencies of mine.
Bottom line, I really wanted those plant stands and of course they're in store only, no shipping. So I decided to do what any delusional mother of a three year old would do, and packed us up for a mini road trip. I tried to convince my son it was going to be an adventure, but all he was focused on was toys. We're frequent Ikea visitors (or we used to be) and he knows what the deal is. One toy at the end of our shopping trip and some fun times eating Swedish food.
Now I failed to mention that my son has sensory processing disorder, which makes everything about 500 times harder than you expect. He was doing really well that week though, so I thought he'd be ok and it wouldn't be much harder than a regular shopping trip (which is still ridiculously hard compared to shopping with a neurotypical kid). Story continues in comments