Friday was the usual – Family Night Out.  We returned to one of our regular spots for some cheap, but good Asian food. The place is a chain restaurant – not typically something I’m into, but in this case the food is good, fairly inexpensive and not cheesy (food- or ambiance-wise).

Saturday morning, T and I checked out the main library.  As soon as we arrived at the children’s book section, one of the librarians spotted us, pointed to a set of double doors I had just walked past and said “Hurry! It’s about to start!”  I was a little confused, not knowing what “it” was or why I had to hurry, but not wishing to incur the wrath of an angry librarian, T and I turned around and headed through the doors.  

We stumbled into an atrium where about 10 parents and slightly more kids were already dutifully (and probably promptly) sitting in a large circle.  A woman stood at one end of the room, next to a a magnetic white-board and a box full of toys, puppets and other stuff.

I immediately wanted to retreat.  I had suddenly found myself in the midst of some get-up-and-dance-and-sing  activity thing and…well…I’m OK with looking silly in front of my kid but not a whole bunch of strangers.   I suddenly had flashbacks to the Accidental Licking of 2nd grade.  Some classmates were teasing me one day, saying that I liked Laura Brown, another classmate.  Laura stood nearby.  I denied it emphatically, knowing of course that it was true.  She was cute AND smart.  She also smelled good if I remember correctly.  Anyways, I got frustrated and stuck my tongue out at the group of teasers.  Here I am with my tongue out in the most defiant of “nah nah nah naah naaaah” expressions and one of the teasers shoves cute, smart, good-smelling Laura in my direction.  My tongue connected with her forehead with a long, sloppy “SLURP!”

Public humiliation is sooooo 1972.

For T’s sake, I decided to stick it out and not give in to my inner/traumatized child.  Seconds later, the woman at the front of the room starts singing something in that nerve-grating, overly-happy/cartoonish sort of way and all the parents and their kids started singing along. T turned to me and gave me a “what da hell? look and then he started to retreat.  I held onto him though. We were in this together.

I learned later that we had happened upon a Mother Goose on the Loose program.  It actually turned out to be a lot of fun.

The library trip ended with me having a minor run-in with a woman outside the library.  I’m standing about 6 or 7 feet away from T, watching him as he takes in the scene around him – big building, posters in the windows, pigeons running around on the very wide sidewalk, people going in and out of the tall swinging doors. I notice a woman looking – actually, frowning – at me.  I could see her mouth moving but it took a few seconds to register that she was talking to me. Her tone was scolding.

“With a child that small, you need to be holding his hand when you’re walking.”

My first inclination was to tell her to mind her f’ing business, but I really didn’t feel like spoiling a good day.  And she was a good 20 years older than me. I don’t like to cuss out an elder. So I waved her off, before she could continue.

“Thank you, but I don’t need your help.”

For good measure and as I walked off quickly (before my tongue got me into hot water) I added in something that I now realize isn’t quite true but it felt like the truth at the time.

“I’ve been taking care of him for 2 years now and he’s fine.”

It has actually been 14 months minus two days as of today, but who’s counting?

Sunday was to be a full program – make cookies for a cookie exchange, do some Christmas shopping, finish grocery shopping, get T down for a nap, make dinners for the week, attend a birthday party for a sec, dash over to the cookie exchange for another sec…and finish off by implementing solutions for world hunger and war.  And as you’ve probably already figured out, Sunday’s plate was too full.  We did manage to make it to a birthday party and get a little shopping done.

Ok, that’s a wrap.  Time to wake up Mr. T.