Just a quickie; I’m still playing with goodie ideas & waiting on a little extra cash to come my way. I suspect I’ll have my package ready by the end of the month or so. I will hopefully finish up my “sample” sock and start the HSS one by next week. 🙂
The Bookstore. I’ve seen hilarious threads on different sites about the bookstore & the urge to….errm….go #2. Well, apparently my children agree. We spent an 1 1/2 hours wandering the mall (play area, Target, potty break, lunch, then on to Barnes & Noble), and no sooner do I set everything down next to the train table, take baby out of the sling, sit down & open the knitting book I’m visiting this week, when I hear those fateful words. “I is doing the poop dance, Mama!”
Pack up the baby, pick up the bags & run down to the bathrooms “hall,” where both boys must hit the waist bar for the drinking fountains, yell “sorry” and laugh hysterically before they will enter the bathroom. Don’t ask me; I’m only the Mom. To make the beginning of the bathroom experience cheerful, Aiden likes to drop his pants before entering the stall & walk with his pants around this ankles. It was great when he started stripping in the hallway outside the bathrooms at Target earlier; but I digress.
After 10 minutes of him “doing his business” while we’re all locked in the handicap stall, I’m about to rip my hair out. Ian has apparently learned that poop jokes are funny and keeps telling Aiden he smells like poop, has poop on him, and is poop, and I’m about to hang the kid from the coat hook. Did I mention the conversation about not looking under stalls while others are using them? Yea. At least we didn’t have to have the conversation about what the other person was doing in the stall (while she was in there). This time.
Finally, we are almost ready to leave, I’m just finishing up washing Aiden’s hands, but Ian is still being a pest, so I send him to go pee in the potty, “just in case.” And then I hear those words again; “Mama, I have to go poop!”
“WHY, why, why, why, why, could you not tell me that while Aiden was going?!”
No answer, of course. So I tell him to get in there and go while I finish drying Aiden’s hands, and when I finish up find him standing next to the door still, pants down, sticking his arm out to flag me down (???) because he can’t get on the toilet by himself (nevermind that he did it last week).
The next 5 minutes pass uneventfully (read: boring and stinky), then we do the whole handwashing, don’t touch anything dance before finally getting out the door. Of course then they have to hit the bars on the water fountains, shout, laugh, and run back to the train table in the children’s section. Once there, I (again) set everything down next to the train table, take baby out of the sling, sit down & open the knitting book, and then look up because although I don’t hear those words, I hear a tap dance on the wood floor. “Aiden,” I speak sweetly through clenched teeth, “do you need to go pee?”
You guessed it. Pick up, speed walk, water fountains, drop pants before entering stall, pee, yell “don’t touch anything!” (successful for once), skip handwashing, back out through door, hit water fountains, and back to train table.
Oy. And to think I thought the lady who told me I was “so brave” to take the boys out “all by myself” while we were eating lunch was exaggerating. I’m never leaving the house again. Thank God the baby lost my debit card, I have an excuse to make Tim go grocery shopping (although it does make paying for lunch tricky).
I need to go and knit, now.