During a moment of what could have only been total intoxication, we decided to take our children to Disney World this week. Not sure what my thought process was here: I know! What better way to celebrate my 30th week of pregnancy than to shlep our two young children around in the blazing-hot sun, weaving in and out of families who have a.) the personal bubble of a cheap suit, b.) three of their own kids, one of whom just dropped his chocolate-coverd Mickey bar on the sizzling sidewalk and is now having a DEFCON 2 meltdown, and c.) just purchased a fifteen-dollar princess balloon and are trudging along in front of us, their balloon banging us in the face and taunting our own daughter into thinking that if she screams loudly enough maybe we will buy her one, too.
In all seriousness folks, it really wasn't that bad. I mean, it could have been much worse. As I walked around, soaking in the antics of other people's children, it made me incredibly grateful that right now the most annoying thing my own kids have been doing lately is stopping to save worms whenever we see them on the sidewalk, even if they have already shriveled into earthy little french fries. That and since I've been wearing skirts a lot more lately, Elsa finds great hilarity in trying to lift them up when we're in public. Lovely.
And if it sounds like I'm high and mighty and judgmental of other parents, that's fine. I've got no problem admitting that I judge other people's parenting skills. Just like I have no problem admitting that when Jeff's already sleeping in the evenings I sometimes switch the TV over from How It's Made to Supernanny, just so I can REALLY feel grateful about my own kids.
Which is kind of what this trip was to me. An episode of Supernanny. In HD. Without the charming British accent. (Side note: somehow Supernanny can get away with telling the parents they completely suck and their kids have a better shot at life if wolves were rearing them because she delivers this news with a Cockney lilt. I think I will try that next time I tell Jeff that instead of staying home and helping him put the kids to bed, my girlfriends invited me to dinner and a movie. So sorry, Love. Gonna take in a show wif me mates, then off ta Olive Garden for a bit-a me dinnah. Be back by ten, ol' chap. Hol' down the flat till then, yeah? Cherrio!)
|The Post-Disney Crash|
|Bring on the singing, disembodied heads!|
|A white skirt was not the best fashion choice|
Although I gotta admit, those chocolate Mickey bars sure are delicious. I think I too would burst into tears if I dropped mine on the sidewalk. Especially if it fell onto a worm and smothered him in vanilla goo. Which, now that I think about it, isn't really such a bad way to die.