In Which I Attempt to Write Humorously

This summer we've fallen into the habit of having take out on the lakefront for dinner on Friday nights.  It is such a relaxing way to start the weekend, with no dishes to clean at the end of a long day.  We're hitting the cheap eats joints in town: Chicken Shack, Greek Fire Grill, Gigio's Pizza by the slice.  Tonight we had to contend with the elements, though, and bide our time at home until a thunderstorm passed.

It got later and the kids needed to eat, so Craig fed Colton in his high chair and then sat with Audrey in her fort while she ate a hotdog. What was I doing during this time, you ask? I was cleaning the kitchen and lugging dirty clothes around.  As Colton was enjoying some after dinner Cheerios, I noticed he was pooping.  If you had been in our house, you would have noticed it too.  A few minutes later, he started to squirm and whine, so I figured he was finished and got him out of the chair to change his diaper.  As I brushed my had over to bottom to loosen any errant Cheerios, I discovered he had had a poop explosion.  His legs, the chair and now my hand were covered.


Craig and I take a divide and conquer approach to parenting so I took the kid and Craig took the chair.  Audrey ran up and down the stairs monitoring the states of poopiness in the kitchen and the bathroom.  When we had finished cleaning and scrubbing and washing our hands, it was still storming so walking downtown for dinner was out of the question.  We decided to eat "for free" from the pantry, our go-to meal of burritos.  Given all that had just happened, it was unsurprising when Audrey said, as I spooned re-fried beans from a can into a pot, "Mommy making poop for dinner?"


I totally blame Madeline for the poo-poo talk.  You know, twelve little girls in two straight lines...  Well, if you remember, Madeline is not afraid of mice and to the tiger at the zoo, Madeline says pooh-pooh (in a French accent).   Audrey looked at me with questioning eyes as we were reading on the couch.  "Tiger poo-poo?"  I tried to explain the expression, a turn of phrase.  She wasn't buying it. 


Last week I had to explain the difference between a baby bath and a baby shower.  Tonight the kids were playing tug of war with a paper bag from a wine shop downtown, from when I went wine tasting with some girlfriends, like two years ago.  Craig suggested that I pick up some more wine and Audrey looked at us.  "Mommy going whining?"


Yes Audrey, Mommy going whining wining.