Now, my mother says that all the gypsies she saw roaming around Appalachia as a kid seemed to have plenty of children already and that she couldn't imagine any of them wanting to buy another mouth to feed. But I'm sure I could find one or two who might be willing.
Today I told my children that I was going to sell them to the gypsies after our trip to the grocery store. Griffin ran his hand along the shelving on the baby aisle, leaving a trail of baby lotion, pureed peas, and nose drops before I noticed and circled back to clean it up.
Charlotte tried to see how many laps she could run around the cart before we got to the end of every aisle. She also insisted on riding in the cart with the groceries until the weight of the watermelon and gallons of milk forced her out.
In the checkout line, both of my older children needed to use the restroom IMMEDIATELY so we left half of our groceries on the conveyor belt and went to the potty. To his credit, Griffin has not had an accident involving pee since Monday--even at the pool, Target, and now the grocery store. I'll give you a moment to realize that I added the "involving pee" caveat to that sentence.
The poop accident after dinner was made far worse by the fact that the kids had chocolate pudding for dessert and I couldn't tell where the pudding ended and the poop began. If you see me this week and my hands are cracked and bleeding it is because I have been doing my best Lady Macbeth impersonation--there is no amount of hand washing that will ever allow me to feel clean enough to eat pudding again.
So I'm looking for gypsies. I hear they have a new wedding show on TLC...