They Just Crack Me Up...

My kids just crack me up. Okay, most of the time. But, for instance, not this morning in church. Yet, that's a story for another time.

Back to when they do crack me up, and I'm only looking serious on the outside. Inside, I am rolling on the floor laughing at the hilarity of it all.

Friday night, we took the kiddos out to eat Mexican. Food. In a restaurant. That alone is funny, huh? Funny because I know that anytime we go anywhere were're going to have to visit the bathroom at least once. Usually for a reeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaally long time. (Maybe I should have brought the chips and salsa in there with me, but....gross.) Also, keeping clothing even somewhat clean is a real challenge. The little guy has taken to using his shirt as a napkin, and this works especially well with cheesy queso, no?

Well, Friday was funny to me because after the usual haggling about what we don't want from the nino menu (Would you like a taco? I don't like tacos. How about nuggets? No, I don't want their nuggets. You like enchiladas; how about a cheese enchilada? Okaaaaaaaaaay........), abandoning what was ordered and begging for a tortilla (even though that's what all that cheese is wrapped in or her plate), I heard that phrase that I hate to hear when we are in public...."I have to go to the bathroom really bad."

Once there, (oooooh, I like those sinks, Mama! Aren't they neat?) we completed our ritual layering of the toilet paper on the seat, while the child in question did the ritual potty dance and song. You know how the song goes...."Hurry, Mama! I gotta' go right now! Hurry! I can't hoooooooolllllllllllllllld it! Hurry, Mama!" Repeat until layering is complete or until toilet paper that has been knocked off during the potty dance has been carefully replaced. All of this is sort of funny when I think about it later, but in a normal sort of way. We've had the chance to replay this scene all over the Gulf coast, so....funny, but....normal.

You know how when you are really tired, it takes just a little to tickle your funny bone, and before you know it you are snorting and barely able to catch your breath? This was that kind of funny to me. Only I wasn't tired. From lack of sleep. Any more than normal. I think I was just worn out, tired. From the dance and the song and the layering and the waiting. All along the Gulf coast. You know, that kind of tired.

So, my Love was sitting and doing her thing, and I was do the prodding. ("Are you finished?" Rolling up some toilet paper and handing it to her. "Come on, sweetie. Daddy and the others are waiting for us. Hurry up." "But I have to go poo poo!") I looked around and noticed the ads on the back of the bathroom door... She noticed them, too. "Look, Mama! Which of those things is the cutest to you?" "Ummmm..... " "I think the one with the baby is the cutest, don't you?"

After a little conversation and a little more prodding, I went out of the stall to wash my hands. Thought maybe she'd hurry a little faster. I washed. I waited. I prodded. I waited. By now, we're working on 15 minutes in the bathroom. Where was that salsa?

Tried to go back into the stall and discoved that she had locked the stall. I think that means that she was off of the potty, but now she is sitting back down again. You know what happens when you get of off a toilet papered seat...the toilet paper gets knocked all over the place and leaves the potty seat bare and teaming with germs. Germs that I now assume are glued to my little girl's cheeks.

After I convince her to get off the potty again and unlock the door, I stand, once again, in the inner sanctum, prodding and reading the ads on the back of the door. My love is an excellent reader and doesn't miss a beat. "Look, Mom! It says, free birthday parties!" The picture shows a woman holding a martini and some sort of club scene in the background. Not your typical early childhood birthday party. Now, she's finally off of the potty, and she's on the second out of five or six wipes. She's reading while wiping. "Look, that one says, 'Share love and life.' That's nice, isn't it?" Now she's done, and I'm anticipating finding my husband and other kiddos waiting for us in the car. Now she's pulling herself together, and we're about to go out to wash our hands in the neat sinks. I unlock the door to the stall. Egg.........don.....something..needed. What's that word after egg, Mom?" Frustrated and ready to GET. OUT. OF. THE. BATHROOM, I tell her, "Donor, Sweetheart. That word is donor." We hurry out of the bathroom before she gets to the next sentence which begins with "Surrogate".

Some days. The bright eyes, innocence, and ever-questioning mind of my middle child....I just have to laugh.