Today I met my mom and Eirinn at Rotten Ronnie’s for lunch. It was a “special treat” because my mom didn’t have any other kids and Eirinn claims to like chicken nuggets (even though the discarded bag containing half of her order tells me otherwise). The food actually grosses me out and makes me feel like a bad person and ashamed of myself after I eat it. That’s why it’s a “special treat.”
She also loves the playroom and is pretty sure that every restaurant should have one. Frankly, I do too. Wouldn’t it be nice if places that served something other than cow lips and arseholes had a playground! indoors! so kids would actually want to eat there too? Just a suggestion.
Eirinn is technically too young (ages 3-10) to use the playroom, but I let her if there are just well behaved younger kids in there with her. As soon as the roughhousing hooligans pile in, running and screaming and threatening each other, I pull her out for fear I’ll never see her with all her limbs again.
Today, thankfully, it was a nice calm day, playroom-wise. Eirinn general sticks to using the slide, which is harmless enough for my tender heart. On her 894th time down, she emerged, sliding on her tummy, head-first, with a giant grin on her face. As she struggled to stand up and climb out I noticed what was so amusing.
Her pants were down around her knees. And she thought this was brilliant.
Not only was she the laughing stock of the restaurant (which, to her, was a very good thing, the little performer that she is), but everyone got to see that she was wearing Big Girl Disney Princess Pull Ups and not baby diapers.
My three thoughts were:
1. Girl needs to grow a butt. Those of us with J. Lo gadunk-a-dunks have never had the experience of our pants falling down.
2. Where on earth was my camera at a time like this?
3. Boy am I glad I have a blog to share with the world my legions of fans a couple of people my mom (who was there) this kind of future humiliation.