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?