The Dookie and the Diner...

Tonight we go to our favorite diner to eat dinner. The owner loves us (especially the kids), we don't know her other than going there, but any time we are there, she gloats all over the kids. She talks to the kids like she has known them for years, and really she has, but we only eat there about every other month.

The diner is not anything extravagant, but the food gets to you within 5 minutes, it's cheap, and it's edible. That's all that matters.

Most of you know that Juliana wants nothing to do w/the potty and the (oh so hellish) training. Tonight at the diner was no different. As we are sitting there eating our wonderful fries w/beef gravy she is sitting there in the diner's highchair and proceeds to make faces as she releases her load of fury...dookie.

Jake starts snorting through his nose, so much so, that I'm shocked food didn't go flying out of his mouth. Then the giggles start to erupt. As we are trying to tell Jake to be quiet (we were already trying to hide the fact that she had done the deed and we were eating a bit faster so that we could calmly walk out of the diner before the smell came, like nothing had happened) she screams in a panic ridden voice: "Daddy poop come out"

Frank whips her out of her chair and looks down, gets a look of disgust on his face and walks out to the bathroom with her. I look at the diner's highchair and there are now a few new racing strips to it. I take a napkin and wipe it off and shove in those convenient 'kid' paper cups, the ones with a lid, thinking it will keep the smell away. I look around and spot the busboy's cart, but notice there is no cleaner on it ... I have got to tell the waitress to bring me some disinfecting spray, she'll understand, it's wiped away, but needs a disinfectant.

As we are sitting there waiting for the waitress to come and for Frank to return, Jake starts to make faces and proceeds to talk LOUDLY about what his sister just did. I keep telling him to be quiet, but he isn't listening. By this time the couple across from us starts to look at us. Did I mention they know us? Yeah, well, they do. Their grandson is in Jake's class and has been in Jake's class since pre-school.

Finally, Frank walks out with Juliana, who is walking like she has been contaminated and as if something is up her lovely butt. Frank stops dead in his tracks, looks at the floor, then continues to walk towards me. He mumbles to me that there is a load on the floor and proceeds to tell Jake to come with him.

I turn around and look at the floor to see a softball size of dookie in the middle of the floor...not only did I look at it, but the couple (the ones that know us) looked at it at the same time.

I sit there, stunned. I can't move. After what feels like several minutes, the couple looks up at me and proceeds to make small talk with me. While talking, I get up with a napkin, grab the dookie, and shove it in the cup with the lid. I accomplished the task of talking and gagging and picking up dookie. I'm a mom, I can do numerous things at once.

I can see Jake running wildly towards me with wipes and a bag (from Frank's car) and saying loudly that it smells horrible. Let's just say that this is not the kind of attention from the diners that I wanted. I would have preferred them to look at me as if I was a glamorous mother of 3, not a tainted mother of 3 with a dookie cup.

I open the fresh smelling wipes and disinfect the highchair, throw the cup and wipes in the bag, tie it up, say good-bye to the neighboring table with the nice people we know and head to the bathroom to discard the dookie bag. There, on the way to the bathroom, is a strategically laid trail. A trail of 3 small penny size dookie's.

What do I do? I throw away the evidence, bury it deep under the paper towels, leave an extra tip, go to the register, pay, and go to the safety of my car for a fast getaway.