Posted by: Hannah | 11/23/2015

day 23

This morning by 10AM I knew it was time to get the kids out of the house. We’d already done a painting project, read a story, had some free play, listened to two songs, and built some block towers. We’d also done a ton of whining and complaining, which is never any fun.

I dressed everyone and we piled into the van, intending to head to the park for a walk in the woods. We hadn’t even made it out of the driveway when the heavens opened and the rain POURED. The kind of rain where your wipers can hardly keep up. The kind of rain where it makes you wet on the way down from the sky, and then soaks you a second time when it bounces up from the ground.

Not, in other words, a good day to go for a hike in the woods.

I knew all the usual indoor kid-friendly activities would be crowded and unpleasant. Free play at the library? Always really little kids, so not much fun for George and Daisy. Indoor playplace? Not during cold & flu season, thankyousoverymuch. Pet store? We just did it last week, and I’m still not over the trauma of watching all three kids pet a live rat that was just running around the store.

I decided we’d head to the mall. The mall! On a Monday morning, nice and early. We’d look at the Christmas decorations, get some exercise walking around, maybe even RIDE AN ESCALATOR, the fun never stops.

So we went. And because I have a mental block about the ongoing mall-wide renovation project, I was once again startled when we arrived and were immediately greeted by a rather forbidding wall blocking off a huge section of the mall. Also a sign, reading “we will not be decorating our hallways and common areas for the holidays this year”.

First the Santa Claus parade that always kicks off the season for the kids and I gets cancelled due to a rainstorm (rain? really??) and now the freaking mall isn’t putting up decorations? I assume the Grinch will show up next and actually steal Christmas, because GODDAMMIT.

However, we made the best of it. We went into Bath & Body Works and tested samples of holiday-scented handwash (we all agreed that the Balsam Fir scent was awesome but that the Gingerbread Snap scent was dreadful). We looked at Santa’s big armchair and saw our reflections in the tree ornaments. We went up and down the escalator.

Then we rounded a corner and were confronted with the window display at La Senza.

It is a poster of a very buxom lady. The poster is larger than life-sized so she’s probably seven feet tall. She’s wearing a lacy bra & panties set, garter belt, and stockings. George skidded to a halt, horrified.

“MOMMY, THAT LADY IS NOT WEARING A SHIRT!”

Daisy immediately chimed in. “She’s all bare naked,” she said, fascinated. “I can see her BOOBIES!”

George turned to me. “Why isn’t she wearing a shirt, Mommy?” I explained that the store only sells bras and underwear. This was new information, and both preschoolers were silent for a moment while they digested this.

“I still think she should be wearing a shirt,” George decided. “It makes me feel embarrassed to see all these naked ladies!”

My son. The prude.

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Responses

  1. Try turning that same corner with a 13 year old. (also, prudish)

    The therapy bills will never stop. That’s all I’m saying.

    The weather *stinks*! Stinks, I tells ya! We skipped the rainy parade (of radio stations?) Saturday knowing our little one would happen on Sunday. NOPE! No parades for us.

    This week is a weird one!

  2. “She’s all bare naked” – I love it! Poor shocked littles.

  3. Yearning for Youngest to develop prudish tendencies. Oldest seemed to have no concept of personal privacy or space related to me until he was about 9. Youngest continues to just barge on in when I’m in the shower (she’s 6.5). I know bodies are wonderful and natural and blah blah blah, but god damn it, I just want to shower and dress ALONE at home for once. SIGH.

  4. Geez, no kidding – the fates just WANT you to be un-festive, is that it? And are we sure the rat was stock, and not just an uninvited guest? Because GAHHHHH. When Angus was G’s age he called my bra my ‘big boy underwear’.


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