So my brother sent me this hilarious e-mail and I couldn't stop laughing so I thought I would share the joy and remind all the moms out there how fun motherhood is and well the sacrifices we make and how only another mom could understand:) ENJOY!!!!!
A 3-year-old tells all from his mother's restroom stall.By Shannon PopkinMy little guy, Cade, is quite a talker. He loves to communicate and doesit quite well. He talks to people constantly, whether we are in thelibrary, the grocery store or at a drive-thru window. People oftencomment on how clearly he speaks for a just-turned-3-year-old. And younever have to ask him to turn up the volume. It's always fully cranked.There have been several embarrassing times that I've wished the meaningof his words would have been masked by a not-so-audible voice, but neverhave I wished this more than last week at Costco.
Halfway, through our shopping trip, nature called, so I took Cade withme into the restroom. If you'd been one of the ladies in the restroomthat evening, this is what you would have heard coming from the secondto the last stall: ''Mommy, are you gonna go potty? Oh! Why are you putting toiwet paper onthe potty, Mommy? Oh! You gonna sit down on da toiwet paper now?Mommy, what are you doing? Mommy, are you gonna go stinkies on the potty?'' At this point I started mentally counting how many women had been in thebathroom when I walked in. Several stalls were full ... 4? 5? Maybe wecould wait until they all left before I had to make my debut out of thisstall and reveal my identity. Cade continued: ''Mommy, you ARE going stinkies aren't you? Oh, dats agood girl, Mommy! Are you gonna get some candy for going stinkies on thepotty? Let me see doze stinkies, Mommy! Oh...Mommy! I'm trying to see Indere. Oh! I see dem. Dat is a very good girl, Mommy. You are gonna getsome candy!''I heard a few faint chuckles coming from the stalls on either side ofme. Where is a screaming newborn when you need her? Good grief. Thiswas really getting embarrassing. I was definitely waiting a long timebefore exiting. Trying to divert him, I said, ''Why don't you look inMommy's purse and see if you can find some candy. We'll both havesome!'' ''No, I'm trying to see doze more stinkies...Oh! Mommy!'' He started to gag at this point. ''Uh - oh, Mommy. I fink I'm gonna frow up. Mommy, doze stinkies aremaking me frow up!! Dat is so gross!!''
As the gags became louder, so did the chuckles outside my stall.. Iquickly flushed the toilet in hopes of changing the subject.. I beganto reason with myself: OK. There are four other toilets. If I countfour flushes, I can be reasonably assured that those who overheard thisembarrassing monologue will be long gone. ''Mommy! Would you get off the potty, now? I want you to be done goingstinkies! Get up! Get up!''
He grunted as he tried to pull me off. Now I could hear full-blownlaughter. I bent down to count the feet outside my door. ''Oh, are youwooking under dere, Mommy? You wooking under da door? What were youwooking at? Mommy? You wooking at the wady's feet?'' More laughter. I stood inside the locked door and tried to assess thesituation.''Mommy, it's time to wash our hands, now. We have to go out now,Mommy.'' He started pounding on the door. ''Mommy, don't you want towash your hands? I want to go out!!''I saw that my wait 'em out' plan was unraveling. I sheepishly opened thedoor, and found standing outside my stall, twenty to thirty ladiescrowded around the stall, all smiling and starting to applaud. My first thought was complete embarrassment, then I thought, where's thefine print on the 'motherhood contract' where I signed away every bit ofmy dignity and privacy? But as my little boy gave me a big, cheeky grinwhile he rubbed bubbly soap between his chubby little hands, I thought,I'd sign it all away again, just to be known as Mommy to this littlefellow.