I love the YMCA. We’ve been slacking off in our attendance there because gassing up the car costs about a small fortune right now, but we went today so the kids could work out some of their energy. (This drizzly, rainy weather has got to stop. Seriously. We’re going a little stir crazy here.)
I dropped the kids off at the child watching room (best idea EVER) and went along my merry way to sweat like a bull on the treadmill. I was just contemplating the spin bikes when I saw a Tot Watch employee heading my way. (I am so used to being the mom they are looking for that I have jumped off of stairsteppers when a Tot Watch person enters the gym area only to realize they aren’t working and are just there for the elliptical.)
When they come to get me, it can only mean one of two things. 1) Someone is bleeding. After the time Cereal Killer dove headfirst in to the floor and broke two teeth in the Y, I was seriously hoping that was not what I was about to hear about. Option 2) Someone pooped.
Appropriately, it was #2.
On the way back to the kids’ room, the employee gave me the, “Holy Mother of Pearl, your child STANKS” look. Now, when you can gross out someone who works with un-potty trained children for a living, you know you have quite an epic load on your hands.
I walk in and see Foodie standing all the way across the room. As I start towards her, the wall of stink hits me.
“Mama, I pooped,” she shouted in her shrill but grave voice. But, trust me, I already knew that.
I wonder how much those military-issue gas masks are…
And, THANK YOU to all the people who have shared our story and/or contributed to the twins. We’re over half way to our goal. You’re all amazing!! We are incredibly grateful for the generosity you’ve shown us. Our first trip to Ann Arbor is a “go” for September because of all of you!