I'd like to propose a toast

This morning at breakfast my girlie raises her cup of milk and says, "Cheers to going to Newport!". I open a handy bottle of water and clink her cup. My boy laughs and then refuses to cheer.

Pretending to be horribly insulted I tell him that if he refuses a toast he'll bring bad luck to the wish and when he grinned I went all Urban Legendy on him an made like this was all commonly known superstition.

He says "What? We won't go to Newport?"

I say "Maybe not, maybe something will happen. Something bad luck."

He disbelieving me says "What?"

I say "Maybe my car will break down."

Note to reader: Foreshadowing text will be noted with green font.

At this point we're all laughing. And thinking of how bad luck might hit us in other ways...

"Runescape might go down. For a whole day!" Ahhhhhhhhh!

"You could drop your english muffin" ewwwww.

We agreed. All sorts of bad luck could befall us.

An hour or two later, the girlie was riding her bike (She dumped the training wheels a few days ago - Hurray for Girlie! There'd be a picture but the camera, she is abroken.) with her brother. I was making the beds and instead of riding where she was supposed to she took the corner and headed down the road. Our road is so NOT a busy one. It's dirt and it's short and there's not allota people down here. Anyway.

I hear hollering. I figure she's mad because he keeps flying by her and not waiting for her and she's had enough. The hollering continues. I run outside and here she comes with the neighbor, blood streaming from her nose through her hand. She was crying but not hysterical and we washed her up she was as good as new. Or almost. Her nose is sore, bruised and a bit swollen. (Then again, how do you tell if someone has an actual broken nose? Ida know.) Again, no picture.

A bit later, they're back to their bikes. This time it's the boy. He wipes out and screams bloody murder. I run, only to discover that he's scraped up a bit but not mortally wounded. I wonder what happens if he gets hurt in front of his friends? He freaks out about even the most minor of wounds. A splinter? He has to be asleep in order for me to pull it out. Seriously. Anyway, we washed him up and he was as good as new. Or almost, he's scraped and bruised and I was worried about his zero pain tolerance the minute the scrapes hit the salty water of Newport.

I needn't have worried.

At lunch time we pack the car for the afternoon - cooler, kites, boogie boards, letterbox clue - and we were off.

Seven miles was as far as we got.

A crazy rattle from the engine department and I look at the dial...Temperature redlining on H.
I pull over, call the inlaws for a ride and AAA for a tow.

There is transmission fluid in the radiator overflow. Not good.

But tonight we are laughing about just how bad our luck could've been. "A bridge, we could've been on a bridge! In traffic! With no cell phone!" Now we're cranking Pearl Jam & Simple Plan and then we're watching Little House on the Prairie. Is it morbid to keep hoping that THIS will finally be the one where Mary goes blind? Yeah, I thought so.