Never going back to town

It can’t be my parenting, it just can’t. Maybe it’s my genetics…Perhaps it is the full moon that happens this week. 
It just simply can NOT be that the children are taking control.

Our toilet seat has been broken for a while. And our front door needs painting. So in the name of responsible home ownership off we go to the home supply store.

Minding her own business across the store is a perfectly fine looking lady….who happens to be bit plump.

Claire decided this needed to be remarked upon, and does so at the very top of her extremely healthy lungs while (of course) pointing.

“HEY! WHY DAT LADYS BELLY SO BIG? IT BIIIG! HEY MOM! LOOK AT DAT! I BET SHE GOT BABIES IN DER!” 

(In her defence, on the previous nights veterinarian reality show episode there was a goat with a giant belly and there were multiple kids in her)

Everyone in our vicinity stopped and looked at us and to where Claire was pointing. 

Glowing with shame, I apologized and grabbed Claire’s arm and drug her over behind the stack of concrete pavers. Caroline followed closely, not wanting to miss watching the drama unfold.

I lectured Claire that we don’t say things about people that might make them feel embarrassed…And that we really needed to be saying NICE things TO them.

Caroline nodded sagely.

We picked out our paint. We selected our toilet seat. 

A man with long hair pulled back in a ponytail and purple converse tennis shoes came down our eisle in the “toilet seat section”.

Remembering what I had just lectured them on, Caroline took it upon herself to say something kind. Except she made a big mistake, understandable since she doesn’t know any men with long hair….

She pranced up the the fellow

“Excuse me Miss Lady. I LOVE your purple shoes!” She smiled brightly, expecting to be thanked.

I apologized over my shoulder​ (I’m sorry getting good at that) and moved out of there fast – kids in tow.

I explained to Caroline that it was a man she had talked to and she shrugged her shoulders “Oh well. He still had nice shoes” 

Point taken.

The final hurdle before paying and leaving was to get a new toilet handle. While I was reading the back of the boxes I hear giggles and it sounds like the girls are singing songs into a bucket.

Nope. It’s not a bucket. 

I wish it was a bucket. 

I would pay money if it had only been a bucket.

It’s these sweet little germ-monsters with their faces squished up on the bottoms of TOILET PLUNGERS. 

They are singing “Jesus Loves Me”

We are never, ever in a million years coming back to town again. Except for tomorrow. Tomorrow I will need groceries.