You know, I’m fine with saying, “I have a 6 year old.” I can wrap my mind around it on paper. But when I turned around the other day and she had her legs crossed and was using her hands and eyebrows to converse with me, it was not OK. It’s not the age, it’s the physical ache of seeing this little grownup in my rearview mirror. It’s like I know her better than anyone and yet there are days I feel like I’m meeting her for the first. time.
Anyway, the other day I was scrolling through things on the ole’ Facebook, and came across this story I shared with my close group of girlfriends. It’s a classic.
January 9, 2014
Who wants to start their day with a funny story? Oh, you guys do? OK!
So, JoJo has this little friend at Kay’s. He’s 5 (older man), JoJo says they’re going to get married and he is her best friend. He lives in our neighborhood and we’ve been trying to figure out a playdate. Well, yesterday, his mom came to get him around 2 and ended up just taking JoJo back to their house to play. As you can imagine, she was geeked up!
It must be said here to the people who know me best, and know that I am often a sweaty, discombobulated train wreck, that this young man’s mom always looks so put together. She’s so cute and knows nothing of me but that I am JoJo’s mom.* So, I go to get my kid at 5. After I stood in their entryway rambling on for far too long in an attempt to distract them from the fact that my children were throwing huge, whiney fits in protest of our exit, I managed to reign it in and move the circus back to our house.
While we were eating dinner, JoJo mentions that she got too excited and had an accident in their basement and “poopied in her underwears.”
Mil, “Mom, one thing did happen. While we were playing trains, I got excited and poopied.”
Me: “You did? Where, honey?”
Mil: “In my underwears.”
Me: “Aw, honey, It happens. Did his mom help you?”
Mil: “No. I didn’t tell her. I just told him.”
Me: “So where are your poopy underwear now?”
Mil: “I left them in their basement.”
So, on her first playdate, JoJo shit her pants and then left it as a little “thank-you-for-having-me” present on their bathroom floor. But the real winner here was me, the woman who had to text the pretty mom and tell her my daughter crapped herself and there was a treat waiting for her in her lower level. Happy Thursday!
*I know this lovely lady much better now and I can safely say if this were to happen today, I’d feel a tad less like a freak show calling to relay that we had a Code Brown on our hands. She still always looks cute though.