Thursday, October 20, 2011

My next career: plumber?

OK, parents, we've all done it.  You aren't sure if your kid needs a diaper change, but you want to check.  So what do you do?  Grab the back of the diaper and the waist band of the pants, pull it out slightly, and see what's there...

Lately grocery shopping has become REALLY challenging with the twins.  Well, frankly, they are 2, so EVERYTHING has become challenging.  The girls refuse to ride in the cart.  No, no, they want to PUSH the cart.  It's actually pretty funny.  They are strong enough, especially together, that they can even get the carts moving in Costco, and those are some HEAVY carts.  The problem is steering.  When you can't see over the top of the cart, it's kind of hard to know where you are going. 

Here's how we make it work.  I put each girl in her backpack (Mastermind Monkey [B] and the Squealing Pig [A]).  I put one on my left and one on my right, and I push from the middle.  Actually, I mostly just steer.  Well, if they are going to insist on pushing, who am I to deny them the chance to exhaust themselves?  It works pretty well until they decide they need to switch places.  That's kind of an ordeal involving the detangling of leashes.  But it works pretty well. 

Incidentally, as I've mentioned before, we are PRETTY well known in the grocery stores around here.  When we come in, we're watched constantly.  Not for fear of shoplifting (see the Walmart story), but because they really are some serious cuties.  It's not unusual for me to turn around and find an employee standing behind us, or near us, just watching the twins.  Everyone is very nice, and after two years I'm used to it, so I never think much of it. 

So we're shopping, and mommy needs something from the bottom of the shelf.  So I tell the girls, "DO NOT let go of the cart," crouch down, and proceed to get the item.  Suddenly, I feel four little hands on the waist line of my pants.  "Change diaper?" two little voices chirp.  OH CRAP!  I nearly moon some poor Publix stocker who is standing behind us.  And these were my high-waisted jeans.  I attempt to stand up and simultaneously whip around so as not to offend said employee.  I move so fast that their little hands get caught in my waist band.  Their little feet fly out in a circle and we succeed in knocking nearly every can off of the shelf.  Fortunately these are really good jeans, as the fabric did NOT rip under the duress.  Meanwhile, I check out the employee.  He's howling.  I mean seriously, the poor guy can't breath!

He sends me off, assuring me that he can get this all cleaned up.  I've probably just made this guy's day, when you think about it.  NO, not because of the view.  Well, perhaps the view of two little girls flying in a half circle...and I'm sure my face was a picture.  Yeah, I'm pretty sure this trip is over.  So I go up to the front.  I'm standing in line for this guy who is normally very taciturn, but an excellent cashier.  Apparently today is no exception.  My items are rung up and bagged.  I am waiting for my transaction to go through.  He's totally silent, like usual.  I reach out for my receipt, and he looks me straight in the eye, and says, "Crack kills, ma'am." 

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