Showing posts with label bum. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bum. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

The Best Day Ever

The Gremlin's description of tonight (as told to he Mother of the Gremlin):

It was the best day ever! First daddy took me to the Troll, and then we walked down to Cold Stone. My ice cream was melting but I ate it, then we played at the troll again and came home!


What actually happened:

We parked by the Fremont Troll and headed down to Cold Stone. Everything started out fine - the Gremlin ordered his Chocolate Devotion, I purchased a Chocolate-Heath Bar for the Mother of the Gremlin, as well as a Sweet Cream and Twix for myself.

The trouble started when the Gremlin, who had ordered first, had his first accident - dropping a chocolate, fudge covered ball of ice cream down the front of his shirt. Normally, cleaning this up would remind me that I need to bring a large amount of napkins with me. This time, it did. Unfortunately, when I pulled out the napkin to clean off the Gremlin, the front popped off the napkin holder and napkins fell everywhere. While attempting to put the napkin holder back together it slipped my mind to put any in my pocket.

So after two blocks the melting chocolate made the Gremlin reconsider, and he requested I carry it until we were able to clean our hands off. Unfortunately, this led to my hands being covered in chocolate ice cream as well. When I attempted to clean them off, I may have also happened to lick a bit of the Gremlin's ice cream cup as well. After the initial yelling, the Gremlin yelled a bit more and began complaining about me eating "all of it" as apparently the stuff melting down the sides is so valuable that it is worth twice as much as the inside.

Even after I stopped licking the small child's ice cream, it only primed him - the Gremlin was only another half-block before he realized the drippings down the sides were caused by the ice cream melting. This caused a new round of yelling to occur - this one so bad that it brought half the congregation of the Fremont Baptist Church out on the balcony to see what was going on. Once the Gremlin had established that he was, in fact, the center of attention, he began calming down and giving chocolaty waves.

Once we reached the Troll again, we sat down and began to enjoy our ice cream. We were sitting in the beautiful Seattle afternoon when the Gremlin hopped down  off the seat. And continued hopping.

"I have to pee. REALLY REALLY BAD!" Of course this would happen when I had three ice creams to hold as well as sticky fingers (in addition to the Gremlin's chocolate covered hands).

"Okay, bud, can you hold it until we get home?" The Gremlin stopped hopping and held his hand up. Suddenly his eyes grew.

"No! NO I CAN'T!" So without a Starbuck's in sight we had to find a bathroom. In true Fremont fashion, we decided on the bushes out of the way of the roads. We climbed just out of sight of the Troll, and the Gremlin began doing his business. It was only then I was able to look around and realize
  1. I was downhill of said business and
  2. There was one of Fremont's own domestically challenged sitting three feet away from the Gremlin, covered in leaves, staring at the 4 year-old's business-end
After we realized the Gremlin was urinating on a bum, we re-pointed him - not in any small part due to the 'stranger staring at the little kid's junk' thing. As soon as that was complete, we both set quickly down the hill. There was a distinct possibility I was moving slightly more quickly than the Gremlin, as when I heard the next shriek I was already in sight of our car.

When I was finally able to return to the Gremlin, I found him mourning his spoon which had fallen out of his cup and was now laying in the dirt. Between the wails I convinced the Gremlin to finally head home.


It always seems to surprise people that this is a normal day with the Gremlin - just like his interaction with the baby-feeding woman at the beach, or the encounter with the Koreans in the elevator at Target.


Favorite Toy of the Week: Stringer