Just the Facts

Fact: I am an idiot.

Fact: Going to a kids indoor play place on a rainy Saturday afternoon could be construed as a suicide attempt.

Fact: Just when you realize you must be suicidal for going to an indoor play place on a rainy Saturday afternoon, you will also realize that many of the other people who go to those place are just plain moronic.

Fact: It is reasonable to expect that an indoor play place will be dirty enough to make your skin crawl.

Fact: If the carpet is only brown in some spots, the giant monkey cage is caked with a 4-inch layer of dust, there are huge chunks of plaster missing from the walls, and the pretzel crumbs that your daughter drops grow legs and crawl away, that indoor play place falls outside the range of reasonable expectations in regards to filth.

Fact: If your kid is old enough to drive, he or she is too frackin' old to be running around in one of those indoor play places.

Fact: The parents of the kids that are old enough to drive and yet are playing at an indoor play place on a Saturday afternoon don't really care what the heck their kid is doing, even if it involves activities that might be perceived as early indications of a future life of crime.

Fact: It's never a good idea to leave a toddler unattended in the middle of a crowded indoor play place on a Saturday afternoon.

Fact: Nobody will care if you yell at an unattended toddler for beating the crap out of your kid. "Unattended" can have its advantages.

Fact: The people that work at indoor play places don't really care about anything except making sure they do as little as possible while they are at work.

Fact: The people that work at indoor play places couldn't care less if your toddler is killed by a kid who is old enough to drive a car, but yet would prefer to take running leaps off of the toddler playhouse without regard to the tiny skull they are going to crush when they land. The staff also won't flinch if they witness a kid fall two stories in the monkey cage because flinching might give the perception that they are alive and therefore should do something. Nor will that staff stop you if you walk out of the play place with someone else's kid, even after they check everybody's wristbands and confirm that you are not holding your own kid. Safety is not exactly a priority for the people that work at indoor play places.

Fact: Indoor play places suck.

Fact: Meeting an old friend at an indoor play place can be the thing that saves your Saturday and makes the whole fiasco almost worth it.

Filling the Void

When we lost our favorite teacher at daycare, I knew there would be some speed bumps in Alexis' life. I correctly predicted that nap time would go to hell in a hand basket without a BFF there to use as a pillow. I knew she would end up going hungry much more frequently without someone to slip her some illegal Goldfish crackers in the afternoon. I figured I should expect a new round of questioning and mass confusion regarding the whole "she knows over 150 signs and isn't afraid to use them" thing. What I didn't expect is that her replacement would be a giant pain in my arse.

Michelle was replaced last night at approximately 8:00 pm in the doll aisle at Wal-Mart. (Don't send me hate email about the Wal-Mart thing, I already know it is the axis of evil, the mouth of hell, and the cause for all that is wrong in this world. The darn place is just too convenient to ignore.) We walked down the aisle as we were headed to Health and Beauty when Alexis saw her. Baby Shell.

Alexis stopped dead in her tracks, squealed "BABY SHELL!" at the top of her lungs, and picked up the ginormous, cumbersome box. "I get Baby Shell," she said. No "Please?" No "Can I?" It just was. I tried to see if perhaps she wanted to consider one of the other dolls but apparently I am an idiot because that doll IS Baby Shell and there is no other doll on this planet worthy of Alexis' attention. Alexis drug the doll, box and all, all around the store and to the front register, hugging it close and giving it smooches on the head the whole time.

So we took the Toddler and her new best friend home and learned that she planned to drag that doll EVERYWHERE, including to bed. Whatever. No big deal. Until she woke up at 6:00.

It is customary for the Toddler to wander over to our bed when she wakes up on the weekend so that she can get up in our bed and either be one with a pillow for a little while longer or be one with a bunch of crazed furry puppets. Either option is totally acceptable, just so long as it means Mr. Husband and I get to enjoy a little bit more of that thing people who don't have kids call sleep. This morning, Alexis showed up at her appointed hour grasping Baby Shell in her arms. I plopped them both into our bed and waited to see if she was going to go to sleep or hang with Elmo and Zoe for an hour.

The answer was none of the above.

"Milk, please."

"I don't have any milk, Alexis. Here's some water."

"NO! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Baby Shell wan milk."

Off trudges Mr. Husband to fetch Baby Shell's accessory bottle of milk.

"Dank you!" the Toddler said as she shoved the plastic bottle up the doll's nose.

"BABY SHELL'S BWANKA!"

"Huh?"

"BWANKA! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"Blanket?"

"Yeah. WAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Off trudges little ol' me to find something to pass as Baby Shell's blanket since she didn't come with that handy accessory. I return with a little Dora blanket.

"Dank you!" the Toddler said as she tucked Baby Shell in under the blanket.

"TOP IT! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" the Toddler screamed as Meg shifted her weight two inches to the left, placing her stinky booty dangerously close to Baby Shell.

"Meg, move. Alexis doesn't want you by her baby."

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" I don't really know what the major malfunction was that time because my brain exploded before the second 'A' could find it's way out of the kid's mouth. This whole "nurturing" thing went on for over an hour. That's a whole hour that I could have spent sleeping, but didn't.

Real life Shell, I blame you. If you hadn't left the land of daycare bliss, Alexis wouldn't have replaced you, and I would have gotten some sleep this morning. I'm plotting my revenge right this moment.

Hmmm . . . this doll is still for sale . . . Perhaps Michelle's daughter would like it for her birthday.

(BTW, Michelle, this Baby Shell looks NOTHING like the other Baby Shell. For one, it has clothes on.)

There May Be Some Truth to His Statement

When Mr. Husband says I need to stop ripping his head off, apparently he is telling the truth.

Poor guy.

By the way, I'm over here doing a guest post tonight.