"This Can't Be Happening!"

"I wonder if they have a special alert phrase for when we walk in here," I wondered aloud to my Man as we, for the second time in as many visits found ourselves exiting the local bookstore with a partially dressed child in our arms.

Last time, the mess for the bookstore employees was minimal, the mess for the parents...maximum.

The last time we'd entered the hallowed aisles of our local bookstore, we fell into our usual habit where each family member enters the front door, looking like a normal person and then, once inside, picks up an irresponsible amount of speed with which to reach his or her favorite section.

Molly charges to the "kids' section" with Kate at her heels, Cole heads to the shelves that hold his favorite authors, Meg can be found heading toward the series books near the kids' section and is always looking for something fresh and new. My Man makes a beeline for the religion section and I bid the whole gang adieu and get lost in the literature/fiction section and then in the cookbook aisles.

The religion section is near the children's section, so the kids are in close proximity to their Dad, and he can keep half an ear on them while scanning the shelves and all of us can look at our favorite books. This practice has worked well for us in the years since the bookstore has been in business UNTIL last time...

...last time when from the kids' section we heard, "Oh no! Momeeeeeeee, there's poooopeeeee in my pants! Oh no Momeeeeeeeee!" we all bolted. Poor Molly was in dire straits, obviously still plagued by a stomach virus that I mistakenly thought had run its complete course. All six of us appeared in the center aisle of the store and then Kate and I followed Molly on her awkward course toward the bathrooms.

The bathrooms are in the very back of the store. The.Very.Back. The entire way through the store Molly chanted loudly, "This can't be happening, this can't happen, please don't let this happen...Mommy, I need a fresh pair...did you bring a fresh pair? Mommy, I need a fresh pair, did you bring a fresh pair? Ohhhhhhhhh this can't be happening, don't let this happen."

Poor kid. I didn't pick her up and go running because I was afraid of making things worse for her by rearranging the mess. So knees locked together in penguin-like fashion, Molly finally reached the bathroom and we went inside and got to the work of assessing the situation.

It became clear that Molly's less-than-fresh pair would have to be discarded and her jeans would need to be carried home in a biohazard container. I considered wrapping my scarf around her southern end to provide adequate cover, but soon decided that my scarf would not cover enough territory. Kate was dispatched to get her Dad who had returned to the religion section.

When I gave my Man the situation report, he headed to the car to get the emergency blanket. I told Molly that we were going to have to leave the store and go home.

"Yike (like) dis?"

she exclaimed, looking at her uncovered parts? I explained that her Dad was on his way with a blanket and that she would be sufficiently covered as we exited the store. And exit the store we did, heads bowed slightly, we all filed out offering silent apologies to the unfortunate employee that was responsible for emptying the bathroom garbage cans that evening.

{For a week after this particular bookstore debacle, Molly never left the house without a backpack full of "fresh pairs" which she had packed on her own..."Jutht in case," she told me with a knowing look.}

This time while we were at the store, a telling ruckus drew my Man and I from our prospective corners to find white foam covering two little girls with surprised expressions on their faces. Foam also covered most of the section of the aisle where the girls were standing. Kate handed my Man a deflated version of this...

...Blobby Robby, now Blobless Robby, had exploded. 

Kate was thoroughly covered and had to make a trip to the bathroom and remove her sweater and replace it with her puffer vest which would leave her skinny little arms totally exposed on our trip to the car. White foam dripped from Kate's hair and was sprinkled over Molly's head as well. 

While my Man was helping Kate with her clothing, Cole was helping me clean up what foam we could with toilet paper from the restrooms. 

It soon became apparent that our efforts were in vain, the more we tried, the worse the mess became. I walked to the front desk and explained what had happened and offered to purchase Blobless Robby. Happily, the employee said that that wouldn't be necessary.

Kate and Darrin soon joined the rest of us at the center of the store, and after a short pause for a purchase, we again made our head-bowed walk out of the store.

"If they don't have a code word for us, they should," said he, "I felt like I had to buy something for the trouble we've left them with THIS time."

{Blobby Robby's insides mixed with high quality bathroom toilet paper.}

Pretty Huh?

Last week, my Man and I went on a date. We enjoyed an early dinner out and a movie. Still not quite ready to call it an evening, we headed in the direction of the bookstore. As we approached we noticed lights on and saw employees with vacuum cleaners in action. 

The employees may or may not have spotted our approaching van from afar and yelled a single word to one another which, of course, we were unable to hear as we got closer. All I know is that when we got to the store, the doors were locked and the lights were out. Not a soul remained in sight.