Today, my younger sister Sabrina came over for a visit. She has a little baby, named Nicholas, who is just 6 weeks old, and a 3 year old (Gabriel) who is not potty trained. Well, we have this great new rule at my house; if your kids shits his pants/diaper, TAKE IT WITH YOU!
This rule was formed back in July when we had a garbage strike in Toronto. Gabriel, did not have one, but two cacas in his diaper. Caca is poo poo in italian. I was aghast when this happened, and reminded her that we had a garbage strike in Toronto, and she still had garbage pick up in Vaughn, and she had better take it with her. We had been very good and had very little garbage at the time, and didn’t want anything as smelly as a diaper around. She was okay with that, but then she LEFT US WITH THE DIAPER!
Bobo was not happy. We weren’t about to put it in the freezer with all of our leftover meat bones. That would be gross! Reluctantly, he tossed it in the green bin. I don’t know what your racoons are like where you live, but the ones over here aren’t too bright. Instead of finding a nice green bin with some nice tasty treats, our racoons proceeded to break into our green bin, pull out the stinky diaper out, and drag it across town!
Bobo was not happy the next morning when he left for work and saw the mess.
So Sabrina came to visit today and I could hear her little one grunting and groaning. It sounded like diarrhea. And when they are that little, it comes out like yellow mustard. I am so glad I am past the potty training stage. My sister looked at me after changing him and said, “Does the Take your dirty diapers rule still exist?”, “You better believe it!”, I answered!
I had to go to Honda to get that Clean Air stupid test for my car so I could get my sticker. When I went to pay for that and my oil/filter change, I gave the cashier $100 and was expecting a $10 bill back. To my chagrin, she gave me a $5 and five loonies. She apologized and said, “Oh I’m so sorry but I have to give you all of these loonies”. For some reason what popped out of my mouth was, “Oh don’t worry, my kids like them for those bubble gum machines”. Now the weird thing is that I never buy my kids gum, only those little trinkets when we go to Sick Kids and I don’t have to go there for 6 more months. So I really don’t know why I said that to her.
That night we went to Gilda’s Club. It’s a support group for families with cancer and for some reason, Frick really wanted to go. After it was over at 8:30 I was really hungry and asked Bobo if we could go somewhere for a bite to eat. He said sure ‘cause he didn’t have dinner. “Where do you want to go?” he asked. “Licks”, I answered and we went to the one at the Beaches. After we got our food, my kids noticed this HUGE bubble gum machine. It’s all hand-crafted out of wood and is about 5 feet high, and it’s really neat because it has a cool obstacle course. The gum rolls down ramps, through vortexes and even on top of a xylophone and when it comes out the bottom it dings a bell. You have to have your hands ready at the bottom or it rolls across the floor. The only place I remember seeing one like that is at the St. Lawrence Market. So my kids started to beg… “Oh please, can we have a gum ball when we are finished?”. I noticed a picture of a small child on the big bubble gum machine and I said to Frick, “Go read what it says”. She started getting really excited, “Mom,” she said, “It says that the donation from this machine goes to the James Birrell Fund for Neuroblastoma. That’s what Krystianna has.” “You are absolutely right”, I told her, “Here is your money”. Later, Bobo said to me, “You do realize that there is another 25 cent bubble gum machine right over there and you could have 8 bubble gums for $2. “Nope’, and I told him about going to Honda and getting all those loonies and he said, “You are right. That’s where those loonies were destined to go”. Another strange but true, “Postcard Moment.”