We were out shopping tonight. For those of you who have never taken a tired three year old shopping before, it is slightly less enjoyable then do-it-yourself tubal ligation. For those of you who have tried it, well, you're already nodding. You could probably finish the story for me.
We're waiting in line. Dylan has done his full compliment of dangling off my hand, swinging into candy bar stands, pulling the non-fixed barrier, whining for batteries etc when he suddenly stops.
I know he's going to do something awful because he looked at me and smiled first. As Robert Fulghum would put it "Uh-oh"....
Little slitty eyes looking up at me. "Stupid asshole" hisses my precious baby, and bursts out laughing. I am wide eyed, mesmerised, dear lord let him not remember anything else Dan and I might have said in any late evening discussions we may have had...oh lord, now he's singing a song about a retard - Dan once called Sasha a retard and he asked what it meant. Why do we tell him everything? He's three, dammit, we should just lie to him sometimes.
Oh god. The lady in front has some tampons in her basket. Please don't let now be the time he decides we are going to revisit that conversation about how he and daddy have a penis but mommy and Sasha have a 'jyna. I'll never be able to come in here again. The last time I bought Tampax in here he asked me, nice and loud, "Are they for your jyna?" - as if it's some kind of pet I keep at home. He always picks crowded places to want to have a facts of life talk. It's all my fault anyway for trying to bring him up well balanced and educated, I should have just said "Johnson" and "pompom" or some other unidentifiable words and damn it, it's all my fault.
We're at the front of the queue now, he hasn't asked about anyone's purchases or nether regions or decribed anything terrible to anyone or managed to sing the Retard song loud enough for anything but a trained mommy ear to detect. He hasn't pointed out any fat men either. We may yet make it out of here alive. Both of us.
The lady at the counter says "Hello Dylan, how are you today?" and my precious baby says "Hello, I went to nursery today and I did a painting. I painted a fire truck for my mommy" - oh how I love this child! he never lets me down, he's so cute and charming and all the ladies behind the counter make a collective "awwwww" when he speaks in his little three-year-old baby-talk voice. She rings the food up and hands him the till recipt and unprompted he says "Thank you ladies, bye bye" and off we go. I know they'll talk about us when we're gone, they'll say what a nice little boy he is and how well behaved he is...this is because they didn't hear the song.
Another succesful shopping trip with my sweet little boy.
