“What do you expect,” I scream in my mind while pretending I don’t notice every body’s dirty looks. When you display a life-sized stuffed replica of the purple dinosaur Barney with a sign stating DON’T TOUCH, it will drive two toddlers insane. I know the melt down is coming and when the 15 others waiting in line to check out their library books start shuffling away from us and closer to each other, I know they do too.
“Momma, look at that big baby (baby, by the way, is the generic word both my boys call any and all stuffed animals),” Reichen excitedly whispers.
“Hi BAY-BEE,” Latham screams while wildly pointing.
“That is a big baby, Doodlebug,” I agree quickly while hoping to make the librarian move a little faster with my mind. She is bent over looking confused, mumbling to herself, and fussing with the computer.
“Hi BAY-BEE,” Latham screams again and this time makes a life threatening lunge to free himself from my death grip.
“I can touch it,” Reichen raises his voice at the end of the request. He phrases his desires these days in the form of a statement/question combo. It’s so sweet.
“BAY-BEE! BAY-BEE! BAY-BEE!” Latham squeals, this time out of frustration, not joy.
“No, sugarplum. The sign says you are not allowed to touch it,” I cringe.
Cue Latham crying, Reichen whining and me sweating. I could work out at the gym for 2 hours on the elliptical machine and not perspire an ounce. But whenever I get the least bit nervous, the beads breakout and pour down my back. My hands also get really slimy. It’s so gross. It’s so embarrassing. It’s so annoying.
Latham and Reichen are now both bawling really, really, really loudly when I raise my voice so the super slow librarian can hear me and ask, “How much longer are you going to be?”
She looks up and stares at me blankly.
“How much longer are you going to be? What I’m asking you is should I stop standing in the middle of this line with these 10 people and move to the back of the line with those 10 people,” I clarify.
“Oh,” she mumbles. “I don’t know.”
So, I move. And of course when I do, she miraculously finishes the next to impossible task in seconds when seconds prior she didn’t even know how long the task would take. “Are you serious,” I frustratedly mumble. “Seriously?”
I spend another 5 minutes dodging dirty looks in the library line while juggling a screaming baby, a teary toddler and three books that keep falling from my hands. I’m about to walk out when I realize the last thing I want to do is repeat this same experience tomorrow. Um, no thank you.
I feel like I’ve run a marathon by the time I reach the finish line of the library desk. I just have one teeny, tiny, itty, bitty question to ask by the time I get there: why would you have a huge stuffed animal in the children’s section with a sign that states DON’T TOUCH on it?
“Oh,” he says. “That’s not for the stuffed animal. I don’t know why that sign is there.”
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I do like the picture soooo much better this way. Thank you David. You did an awesome job!
What a “ho-hum crasher” that last line was. OMG are they kidding??!!!