It’s the weekend. You would think that I wouldn’t be stuck doing the same mundane activities that I have to do with T.Puzzle and Full Speed during the week. I mean sometimes these activities can be fun and I do end up having a good time if everyone is in a decent mood. However, if I don’t have to go to the Thomas the Train table at the bookstore on a Sunday, I won’t. I know I have the whole week ahead to do so.
Long story short, my hubby, Mad Dog (there is much discussion concerning my husband’s nickname in this blog- he thinks Mad Dog is cool, I think it sounds like an angry, old guy who has issues with alcohol- for now, since he’s a good sport, I’ll stick with it), was running an errand that was taking forever so I headed with the boys to the table of train-dom at the nearest bookstore. My boys are loud and energetic. They are fully committed to lively animating the wheeled vehicles around the train track. There are times when it can be quite tense. They come to a standstill at some fixed point and have to battle it out to see who takes the lead in the circular swing around and around the table. You throw some strangers and their children into the mix and it can get pretty wild.
For the most part I was managing them fairly well. That is until T.Puzzle did the tell-tale motion of stopping, squatting and turning a rosy shade of crimson. Of course a dirty diaper is inconvenient but we soldiered on. I promised them a return to the train table once T.Puzzle had a fresh diaper. Full Speed fought me at first and then loudly announced to the entire store he needed to poop, too. Great, two poops with one bathroom trip.
We headed to the restrooms and this particular bathroom is well equipped for us. There is a separate stall with a changing table, sink and a toilet. I envisioned changing T.Puzzle while Full Speed was on the potty and we would all wash our hands in privacy. Not so. This glorious bathroom was occupied. I have no earthly idea what was transpiring in this stall. The occupant was not moving. After a couple unsettling moments, I decided even if the occupant did clear out, I did not want to use that particular toilet anyway.
So, I did the next best thing. I threw my portable changing pad on the floor upon which to change T.Puzzle and put Full Speed in a stall to do his business. The entire time Full Speed was doing so he was shouting at the top of his lungs about this and that. Full Speed informed me he would signal he was finished by punching the stall door. I said that wasn’t such a good idea and asked if he could keep the noise level to a minimum. He didn’t comply. T.Puzzle was crying because his sense of depth perception (same for Full Speed) is often distorted because of his glasses. As I lifted his legs up from the changing pad he flayed his arms about frantically as if to regain purchase of the ground. He’s screaming, Full Speed’s a’shoutin’ and I’m ready to leave both of them in there and immediately start browsing the self-help section to find a book about finding your center in the middle of chaos.
The crazy train crashed in the bathroom. That is what life is like with two young boys. A. Crazy. Train.