First off, my apologies to Jackamo and T-Bone who have already heard this story. Feel free to skip over this one, ladies! Over the weekend, grandmumsy, Auntie J and I took The Kid to see The Easter Bunny at the mall. Things started off great. We got there right around lunch time when I was hoping most people would be feeding their children rather than waiting in line to go sit on Furby's lap. Everybody was happy. I have been talking to The Kid for weeks about The Easter Bunny (know known as EB) because I didn't want her to freak out like she did with Santa. She seemed cool with the whole thing. There was a little girl in front of us in line who was looking into the little pond and The Kid wanted to get down and go look, too. So, I set her down so she could go take a peek. No sooner had The Kid gotten over to the water, when I got to see my own 'water feature'. The little girl was peeing her pants.....A LOT. I had visions of The Kid bending down and splashing in it like she does in the bath, so I swooped her up and decided that she was done looking at the pond. The little girl's dad and brother waited in line while the mom took 'Pissy Missy' to clean her up. I was really hoping that the dad and brother would make it up to EB before Pissy Missy got back, but no such luck. She and her mom came back, just in time to go sit on EB's lap. I made sure The Kid sat on the other knee. At least whatever was on that knee probably wasn't as fresh.
After the visit with EB, we went and got The Kid a new pair of shoes. She got some trendy little sneaks, but it's a lot of shoe. I think I am going to start calling her Slappy instead of The Kid, since she slaps her big feet on the ground when she walks. I am not kidding. For such a tiny little kid, she has GINORMOUS feet. Pretty soon she'll be wearing men's shoes like her mommy. (I kid....I don't own any men's shoes at the moment.)
We followed the shoe ordeal with lunch and then a quick trip to the bathroom. This particular mall has no straps on their baby changing tables. I can tell you this much. Whoever the idiot was who designed that stupid bathroom should be the one to clean it up. After much struggling and wiggling, I finally managed to get The Kid changed. I put her down on the ground for two seconds so that I could wash my hands. In that span of time, she managed to get over to the toddler toilet and SHE WAS STANDING IN IT. Wearing her new shoes, mind you. I shook my fists up to the heavens and thought to myself "HA! What a spirited child have I!"
Later in the day, we are still at the mall and I get the overwhelming olfactory feeling that it is time to take The Kid to the bathroom again. So we trot back to my favorite strap-free baby bathroom. I strip The Kid from the waist down to the ankles and at that precise time, she decides to practice her mad Houdini moves and try to wiggle out of the situation. And without getting graphic, this WAS a situation. She proceeds to smear the baby byproduct all over the counter, herself, the mirror, her clothes and all the while I'm just trying to keep her from falling off and from getting any of it on me. I can handle just about anything, but poop is my weakness. I finally wrestle her back down into a semi-clean spot on the counter and get her diaper mostly back on. She decides to wiggle again and gets her feet (and new shoes) into the sink. Now, the stupid bathroom designer couldn't manage to include a belt in the changing area design, but they could install a stupid toddler toilet and automatic sinks. That's right, folks! Wet feet again. By the time I came out of that bathroom, The Kid was kicking and screaming, I was dripping with sweat and had her in a fireman's carry. I found Auntie J and basically said...."Here. I've just about had it with her today."
Ahhh, well. As a good friend of mine says, 'Your pain is tragedy, my pain is comedy. Let the healing begin!'