All the boxes and bags had been ripped and torn open on Christmas morning. Toys were scattered along the floor ready to be played with for the first time…and what does my child gravitate to first? The $2 whoopee cushion from his stocking. (You know, the bag you blow up and when squeezed or sat on it replicates certain…noises from the rear. That thing. ) This, ladies and gentleman, was the big winner.
Yes, I instantly regretted allowing Santa to place such a foul thing among the other stocking stuffer light up pens, bubble tape and joke books. How dare he bring something like that into our house? The slew of various obscene noises followed by uncontrollable giggles filled the air as I meticulously crawled along the floor searching for wrapping paper and boxes to throw away. Not the greatest position for one to be in at such a time, might I add.
It was short-lived though. One big jump on the toot bag caused the cushion to split at the seams. It was bye-bye nasty noise maker. I should have felt worse about it. He was devastated. I secretly felt relieved. I had been trying to figure out appropriate reactions for when he brought the evil thing out while we had company. I knew it was inevitable. Now, cushion busted, problem solved.
Except my husband always has a solution.
He proudly announces there’s a self-inflating version and we will get one next time we’re at the store. Fabulous.
Three days later we venture out to the grocery. I rarely allow this, but I let my kid sit in the large part of the cart. I needed to get through this trip quick and not worry with chasing wild turkeys around. My husband was with us and quickly located the ingenious new flatulence sound producing cushions.
He tested it out just as an employee walked by. Yep, it worked loud and clear. Mr. Employee did one of those crazy double stares. Thoroughly mortified, I quickly moved away from my husband as if I didn’t know him.
He quickly caught up to us and handed my child the new cushion of joy, his face lighting up with a big smile. (Looking back, it was more of a Grinch-like smile. I should have been more concerned.) Then hubby takes off to find shrimp. I was thankful my child hadn’t yet figured out the precise maneuver to create the comedic commotion.
Then we got to the cereal aisle.
There I was, reading price labels to get the best bargain and he figured it out. The lady two cereals down looked right at me, horrified and disgusted. My child was conveniently hidden by me and the cart. How does one react in this situation? Should I apologize? No, that’s admitting guilt. Should I tell on the kid? Act like nothing happened? What?
Run. That’s what I chose. I quickly turned and flew down that aisle stricken with panic. My worst nightmare had occurred in aisle 4.
With my heart pounding so loud I could feel it in my ears, I continued on. My only focus was getting out of that store…when it should have been to take away the whoopee.
Not only did my sweet child think think this magical toy was the funniest thing on the planet, now he knew it had even more power. It made mommy turn bright red and panic. It was his precious.
He held on to this newly discovered information for a few aisles. His brilliant calculations being correct, mommy will forget I have it… so the trip continued on, uneventful.
Until we got to frozen veggies.
I was searching for peas. Why are they always so hard to find? Almost everything was marked off my list. I was almost out of that place. Then it happened. He, once again hidden, sat on the cushion just slowly and hard enough that it created an unmistakable, high-pitched tune for what felt like a full minute. It all happened in slow motion. I cautiously looked to my left. The lady looking for corn quickly looked to her right. We locked eyes. Mine wide and frantic, hers changing from confused to disgusted to laughter.
She muffled a giggle with her hand. I, once again fled the scene. I forgot the peas and didn’t even care. I made it to the safe shelter of the bread aisle. I originally planned to snatch the horrible, green culprit from the hands of the giggling child almost in tears from laughter, and then it happened. I started laughing too.
A big, belly laugh. I couldn’t stop. I needed that laugh. Although I was relieved to finally escape the embarrassing venture, I was also thankful for a child’s perspective and humor.