Sometimes I'm thankful Elizabeth isn't very verbal yet.
In the book I'm reading, "Don't Make Me Count to Three" by Ginger Plowman, she shares this story:
(in advance, sorry I don't know the correct way to block quote with the format of the blog.)
"I learned humility well one Friday afternoon in the Winn Dixie Grocery Store about three years ago.
Normally, I do my grocery shopping in the morning while the store is not so crowded. But for whatever reason, I found myself waiting in the checkout line at 6:00 p.m. on Friday with my two children. The place was packed. There were cashiers at all 10 registers and six or seven carts in every line. In the line next to me, the very last line, waited a mother and her two small children. They were about the same ages as my chidlren, three and five. Mini refrigerators filled with various drinks were strategically located at the end of each check out counter.
The five year old began to beg mom for a coke (Let the games begin!).
Mom gave a firm, "No." The boy began to walk over to the refrigerator.
Mom said (loudly), 'You better not open that door!' The boy opened the door.
'You better not pull a drink out of there, mister!' The boy grabbed a coke.
'If you open that coke you are going to get it!' The boy unscrewed the cap, tossed it on the floor, and took a big swig.
Mom was screaming now, having completely lost it. 'You just wait until we get home and your daddy hears about this! You kids never listen to me. I've had it up to here with you both!'
No one was able to decipher the exact location of 'here' but we kept listening anyway. It's not that we were being nosy. It's just that there is nothing else to do while waiting in line, so this scene had the full attention of every customer. Now, in order for all these people to watch the scene unfold, they had to look past me and my children, who on this particular day were behaving well. Enter pride. Rather than having compassion for this poor mom and the struggles she was having with her children, I smugly thought, 'You won't see my kids acting like that.'
And then it happened. My three-year-old daughter, Alex, was standing right behind me when all of a sudden she blurted out the most horrible three words imaginable. It was as if she had grabbed one of the microphones from a checkout counter and yelled into it with all her might. Waving her hands frantically in front of her face, in a BOOMING voice, she screams, 'Mama! You pooted!' My entire body froze. Time stood still. To this day, I do not know which was worse--the second she blurted it out or the minute it took for everyone to realize it was true."
Reading this story, reminds me of some of the funniest bathroom experiences I've had. You know, the ones where you are in the stall beside that brave women who has that little talking toddler in there with her. The mom, obviously, doing what she came in there to do, when the youngster loudly proclaims, "Ew, mom, what is that?!"
Although, I laughed out loud with the story Ginger Plowman shared, and quietly tried to hide my snickering during the infamous bathroom times, there is a sense of fear of what might come out of Elizabeth's mouth one day.
In times like these, I'm thankful my little girl only mutters ma-ma and da-da and hope I can laugh (and be humbled) at whatever will come out of the mouth of my babe.