So we went to Kohl’s this weekend to pick out some new pajamas for the kiddo. Ever since I bought him the awesome dinosaur ones, he has been wanting more.
|These ones. Cute, no?|
We checked the racks for a while and didn’t find anything.
Correction. We found some pretty cool Buzz Lightyear ones, but they didn’t have his size. And he can’t fit into a 2T, no matter what he may tell you.
Then, in a harsh whisper he turns to me and says, “Mama; I need to go pee!”
So we go to the bathroom. He wants to go in the stall by himself so I let him. Not an uncommon occurrence.
I’m waiting by the sinks when I suddenly hear, “Um…I peed in my pants.”
What? He’s standing in front of a toilet; how did he not make it in time?
No, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was most likely that he was not paying attention to where he was peeing (also, not uncommon for him) and he peed on his underwear and his pants.
But I remained calm. I called the ex-husband (who was also at Kohl’s because he needed some new pants) and explained the situation. He told me he would buy a new pair of pants and some underwear and call me when he was ready.
Actually a bit of luck, since this kiddo can always use new pants. I just got rid of three that were too small, and I know at least two of the ones that fit have giant holes in the knees.
So we took the kiddo’s wet clothes off, I laid some paper towels out and the kiddo sat on the little couch in the Kohl’s bathroom, holding his sweatshirt tightly down over himself in a show of modesty I haven’t really seen him have before.
While we were waiting? The kiddo looks up at me with a completely serious face and says:
“Well, at least I didn’t pee in my face.”
Way to look on the bright side of things, kid.
|Also? He got a super sweet police badge while munching at Jimmy John’s this weekend.|