We spent a long fifty-seven hours at a swim meet yesterday with limited resources to keep our four year old entertained.
“Hey Chloe! There’s your sister in the water! Let’s cheer for her!”
Nah.
All the Rainbow Looms in the world wouldn’t have made her happy.
Firstly, she doesn’t have the manual dexterity to operate the device so she chooses to snarl at the big kids around her who want nothing more than to flick elastics around all day, sharing their wares and reminding me I don’t know the first thing about anything anymore. (For example, the concession stand was selling Ring Pops for $1…how long have I been asleep?)
Secondly, the building was packed with people, it was hot and somebody’s absent-minded mother packed only enough snacks to make it through the first seven minutes away from the house.
The same house had we been sitting in, the children wouldn’t ask for food for eleventy-five hours.
I thought Hanna was preoccupied visiting with friends, watching the odd race, I had no idea she was people watching too.
Last night when I was tucking her into bed she said, “Mom, I noticed a woman in the stands today who had this, um, it was, her underwear.”
Uh huh. I’ve been waiting for this moment. I had no idea this had been bothering her.
She’s going to say, “The lady was wearing jeans, her underwear was resting somewhere around her clavicle. It was a really terrible almost skin colour, seemed worn out. Mom, that woman was you.”
We would have a long pause, maybe a few tears, some sort of drink with whipped cream, a giant hug and I would promise I would try harder.
But that’s not what happened.
Hanna: Mom, this woman had something coming out of her underwear. It was like, one sort of string across her lower back kind of and then another really skinny string hanging down. Like I think the string was coming out of her butt at the back. It was red. What was that?
Hmmm. I could lie and say I’d never heard of such a contraption or a fantastic song for karaoke by Sisqo of the same name.
I could say the woman was a Super Hero in disguise because who wouldn’t want to think they live among us? Maybe her super power is saving women who wear abysmal excuses for underwear from the lingerie that haunts them.
Instead I played it cool. “Oh, you know what? I think I’ve heard of those. They’re called thongs.” (I think I’ve heard of those???)
Hanna: But how does it attach to your underwear.
Me: I’m not really an expert but prepare to be amazed. They ARE the underwear.
Hanna: What? No Mom, this was just like a red string.
Me: I know. It’s very hard to believe. (So very hard to believe)
Why didn’t they invite kids into the brainstorming session when they were inventing these things? They could have saved people a lot of time and money.
That’s my girl!
