Picking the girls up from the sitter’s house today:

Me: Ok girls, let’s go.

They stood in the car (yes, we did buy a mini-van, and no, I am not ready to give up calling my vehicle a car, despite its irrefutable vanness) staring at me.

Me: Come on girls. Hurry up, get in your seats or I am going to pee.

Briar: Are you going to pee in the car, mommy?

Me: No, honey, but I really have to go, so let’s hurry.

A: Mommy peein’.

Me: No, not quite yet, but hopefully soon.

Briar: Mama, did you drink something that makes you pee?

Me: I guess I must have.

A: Mama peein’.

Briar: Here let me check.

I was buckling Avery in when I felt two very cold hands slip into the waistband of my pants.

Briar: I’m checking you mom. Yup, you stink, you have to pee.

Me: Briar! I do not stink. You stink when you have to poop. I have to pee.

Briar: Yes, you are, you are going to poop.

Avery: Mama poopin’. Mama stink.

And it was at that precise moment that the mailman walked by, unlike every other day in the history of seeing him as I pick up the girls he was NOT wearing his iPod. Swell, my kid thinks I stink and the mailman thinks I’m shitting myself.

How’s your day going?