How to screw up a kid in less than 5 mins.

November 18, 2008

A few weeks ago, Nate and I decided it was time that little man get a hair cut. I attempted to cut it myself...by myself. It turned out looking really cute, but even with all his curls I noticed there are some uneven areas. I decided to take him to this boutique close by that specializes in children. Pretty much anybody who goes there is uber preppy and, if they are a girl, has a ginormous pink (or white) bow in her hair. The moms are very preppy, also. Everyone but me, of course. [Cuz I'm too gangsta to be preppy, yo. Well...I might be a little preppy. Let's say that my preppy:gangsta ratio is roughly 6:4. Something like that, depending on the moment, the beverage and whether or not there is a disco ball in the room.]

In the middle of the little store there is a table with a train on it. While I was waiting for his hair to be trimmed, J. Crew must have temporarily closed their doors because a huge group of alpha moms and their Soon-To-Be-World-Leaders offspring showed up.

There must have been 10 kids ranging between 3 and 4 milling about with the girls standing out because of the big bows. The moms were networking, sharing tips about housekeepers, tutors and the price of a flight to Bermuda. Suddenly one of them shrieks, "Thurmond Alexander!"

Thurmond, who is about 4, looks at his mother and smiles. I almost immediately understand that this future Senator has taken a leak on the floor and sections of the train.

She digs into her purse and produces a single kleenex and begins daintily blotting at 3 quarts of pee that is beginning to spread like cancer on the floor and through the toys. She says loudly, "Well, it's a good thing that urine is sterile!"

It was obvious this statement wasn't meant for her kid - she was talking to the rest of us: trying to discreetly steer our kids out of the tidal wave. I looked around, waiting for someone to say, "Oh, yes! Thank God your sweet son came along and sterilized all of these toys for us! We feel super awesome about the fact that MY kid has YOUR kids pee on his socks! Yep...let's do this every Thursday, shall we??? Except, maybe next time don't give him asparagus* for lunch."

But everyone pretended like all was not stinky and gross, choosing instead to continue with their power-chats. She stood there with him for a few minutes and then, finally, seemed to give up on the idea that the Petit Prince would have his hair cut at this moment in his saturated pants.

Eventually she said in a very rough voice, "Well, come on Mr. Pee Pee Pants!" Thurmond "Pee Pee" Alexander had a different idea - he wanted to continue standing with his legs at an awkward distance apart, kind of squatting down - while playing with the damp trains. The alpha moms continued to ignore her as she eventually snatched his arm and dragged him out of the store.

As soon as they were outside he went into a full-blown meltdown, complete with horror movie screams and flailing. In fact, it was probably a good thing his bladder was empty.

She continued dragging him to the car where she yanked down his pants and threw him into the car seat of the biggest SUV I've ever seen.

I watched them drive away wondering about the wisdom of mocking your son who just had an accident in front of a dozen strangers. The same strangers that you just tried to convince that it was actually a good thing that your well-hydrated son just took a leak on them and the toys they were enjoying. But what do I know? Yesterday I laughed at Cash while he was having a tantrum and crying, he banged out the biggest fart I've ever heard. Seriously. My ears are still ringing.