I headed to a local running store today. I needed some supplies, and stumbled upon a “20% off all apparel” sale. Yay me!
Dressing Room Adventures with a Preschooler
I looked around at the deals whilst the Lucy just looked around at everything.
She spent quite a bit of time perusing the wall of “essersize shooooes”.
Lucy. She has a “thing” for shoes.
Meanwhile, I found a few goodies to try on.
If you had been standing outside my dressing room (it’s one of those rooms that is only a room with a partial door right off the “show room floor”), you would have heard this… after I had undressed down to my unmentionables:
Lucy: “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWW. DAT’S UH-GUSTING!”
Mortified Me, through angry teeth: “Shhhhhhh. Don’t say that so loud.”
Inside Mortified Me’s head: “Plastic surgery is such an option…”
Lucy: “Dat’s uh-gusting!”
Mortified Me, through clenched teeth: “Shh. Shh. Shh. Shh. Shh. Shh. Shhhhhhhhhhh.”
Since the damage had been done, I decided to Call. Her. Out.
Mortified Me, flashing gang signs: “OK, so what’s so disgusting?”
Lucy: “Dat.”
Mortified Gangsta Me: “Whu?”
Lucy, pointing at my bruise: “DAT!”
Mortified Me, making sure to say it loud enough for the 4 men in the store to hear: “Oh… I know honey, that IS a REALLY BAD BRUISE. Mommy got that while break dancing, didn’t she…”
When I was young and naive and dreamed of my children… THOSE children adored me.
